Soul Collecting Is Black Tie Only

| USA | Friendly | September 2, 2015

(I’m in a pressed black shirt, black pants, and am wearing a red and black tie. I’m sitting down getting breakfast at a place, on a Sunday, when the following occurs.)

Lady: *gives me the stink eye and leans over* “You look like the devil himself.”

Me: *trying to simply ignore her* “It’s a common misconception.”

Lady: *continues to ignore her own meal and continues to give me the stink eye*

Me: *just wanting to eat in peace, but realizing that this apparently isn’t going to happen* “When I collect the souls of the damned I wear a white shirt with a black tie.” *pointedly look around the restaurant*

(The lady followed my gaze and realized that, as it is a Sunday morning and most patrons were dressed for church, the majority of males were wearing white shirts and black ties. Her eyes went wide and she quickly averted her gaze back to her own plate. I don’t normally mind striking up a conversation with other patrons, but I was very glad to be able to have the rest of my meal in peace.)

Shouldn’t Have Pressed The Hash Key

| Tybee Island, GA, USA | Working | September 1, 2015

(I am on vacation in a small island town. There’s a diner down the street from my hotel, which serves a breakfast buffet on the weekends. During the week, I go in and order from the regular menu.)

Me: “I’ll have two eggs over-easy, hash browns, toast, and the corned-beef hash.”

Waitress: “Sure, sweetie, it’ll be right up.”

(The diner isn’t terribly full, so my plate comes pretty quick. Only there’s something wrong.)

Me: “Wait, I ordered the hash, not the sausage.” *points to the two brown patties on my plate*

Waitress: “That is the hash. If it was sausage, it’d be brown.”

(For those who have never eaten hash, it usually comes in scoops, not neat patties like sausage. Also, sausage is brown, too. I’m confused, and cut into the patties. Sure enough, it’s corned-beef hash, perfectly cooked in round circles. The funny thing is, on the weekend buffet, hash is served in scoops.)

Me: “Err, okay.”

Waitress: *looking at me intently* “It’s hash!”

Me: *confused at her reaction* “Yes, I can see that. Thank you.”

(I turn to my plate, to see several of the fry cooks staring intensely at me, as I’m seated at the counter.)

Fry Cooks: “It’s hash!”

Me: *starting to feel really uncomfortable* “Yes, thank you. I was just surprised, is all.”

Fry Cooks: “It’s hash!”

(I still eat it, and it was good, but everyone from the hostess to the manager, about ten people, just had to assure me it was really hash, giving me very intense and rather creepy stares. I never figured out why they were so insistent on it being hash.)

Don’t Write Fake Flipping Checks

| Marysville, CA, USA | Romantic | August 31, 2015

(I am about five months pregnant with my first child. I am chatting with a customer who is at least 20 years older than me and find out my baby’s due date is the same day as his birthday. After that he always comes in and speaks to me.)

Customer: “Look what I got today.”

(He shows me an envelope that looks like a life insurance offer, complete with fake check for $100,000.)

Customer: “This is an advance on my record studio contract.”

Me: *pretending to believe him* “Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you!”

Customer: *hands me a note* “Here, just read this. I’ll see you later.”

(When I go on my break, I read the note in which the customer has offered to give me half of his check, $50,000, if I would just sleep with him once. He is old and lonely, and I could finally marry my man (I have been married five years), go to college, and quit flipping burgers. I show my manager, and all she has to say is:)

Manager: “We don’t flip burgers. We char-broil them!”

A Very Scrambled Shortbus

| IL, USA | Right | August 29, 2015

(I’m the a**-hole in this story. After drinking far too much, a bunch of buddies and I go to this breakfast place. I don’t really want to go, but my buddies insist, so I am barely awake when the waitress comes up to us.)

Waitress: “All right, fellas, what can I get for you?”

(My friends order, then she gets to me.)

Waitress: “And for you?”

Me: “Hmm?”

Waitress: “Food? Mouth? Yours. You know. Restaurant stuff.”

Me: “Oh! Right, sorry. Eggs and bacon, please.”

Waitress: “How you want those eggs, hon?”

Me: “Orange juice.”

Waitress: “Oh… ‘shortbus.’ Your name’s ‘shortbus’ now. I’ll be back with your Orange Juice Eggs.”

Me: “Oh, god! No! Scrambled! I meant scrambled!”

A Smooth Operator

, | Oakville, ON, Canada | Working | August 29, 2015

(After work I go to get a cookie and a smoothie.)

Me: “Hi, can get a [cookie] and a strawberry banana smoothie, please?”

Employee: *throws her arms up in the air* “YAY!” *turns to the new guy she’s training* “YOU get to make a smoothie!” *turns to me* “I’ve been waiting all day for somebody to order one!”

Me: *amused but somewhat at a loss* “Um… glad I could help with that?”

(The new guy made a good smoothie!)

Page 173/622First...171172173174175...Last
« Previous
Next »