Harry Potter And The Really Long Funeral

| Portugal | Friendly | April 28, 2015

(The marching band I’m a part of is celebrating its anniversary with a trip abroad for all it’s members. We left the day after the international release of the fifth Harry Potter book. It’s the evening, and some of us are talking over dinner.)

Band Member #1: “I really like this trip, and we’ve done a lot of fun stuff, but the bus rides are really boring.”

Me: “Yeah. I wish I’d brought my cd player, and then I could listen to music. [Band Member #2] lent me his for a bit yesterday; it was nice.”

Band Member #3: “I brought a book, but I can’t read in the bus. I get car sick.”

Me: “Oh, I wanted to bring Order of the Phoenix. I bought it the day before we left, but I only got to around 300 pages in. Mom wouldn’t let me bring it with me, though. She didn’t want to wait to read it until I got back.”

(This is the middle of the Harry Potter craze, so excitement breaks out around the table.)

Band Member #4: “Is it out already?”

Band Member #3: “What happens? How does it end?”

Me: “It’s out in English. The Norwegian translation will take a while, but I couldn’t wait. I’m not gonna tell you what happens; besides, I’m only halfway or something.”

Band Member #5: “I heard someone dies. Who is it? Hagrid? Ron? Sirius? Snape? Dumbledore?”

Me: “I don’t know; I haven’t finished it yet.”

Band Member #5: “It’s Harry, isn’t it? Harry dies?”

Me: *sarcastically* “Yes. He dies at the end of book five. The next two books in the seven book series is about the funeral.”

Allergic To Common Sense, Part 5

, | Peterborough, ON, Canada | Right | April 28, 2015

(I’m working in the back making orders. One comes up on the screen for a burger, no tomato. The cashier gets my attention.)

Cashier: “[My Name], that ‘no tomato’ is an allergy.”

(I go through the normal process of swapping utensils, cleaning the work area and so forth. I start making the burger and pause halfway as a thought occurs.)

Me: “Hey, [Cashier], that tomato allergy? It’s no ketchup either, then?”

(The cashier asks.)

Cashier: “No, they said it’s fine. Actually they want extra.”

Related
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 4
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 3
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 2

A Very Unhappy Meal

, | Buffalo, NY, USA | Related | April 27, 2015

(Despite most of my family being Catholic, a combination of atheism on my dad’s side, and agnosticism/laziness on my mother’s side, make it so that I grow up without religion. We simply didn’t go to church, so I had no clue about the rites and rituals that my cousins would go through. My cousin and I are about seven years old, and we are in the middle of eating our hamburgers when she suddenly starts bawling.)

Aunt: “Honey what’s wrong?”

Cousin: “I’M GOING TO HELL!” *continues bawling*

My Mother & Me: “…?”

Aunt: “Honey, why do you say that?”

Cousin: *through the tears* “I wasn’t thinking and it’s Friday, and I already did my first penance, but I ate meat and it’s Friday, and I can’t confess before my first communion AND I’M GOING TO HELL!” *resumes absolute sobbing*

Me: *at all of seven years old, and matter of fact as can be* “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

(I just couldn’t fathom a ‘loving God'” that would send a little girl to eternal torment over accidentally consuming meat on a Friday)

Other Patrons: *death glares*

Mom: “You shouldn’t say that… I’ll explain it later.”

(Later on she tried to explain it to me… to no avail.)

Server Got Served

| TX, USA | Working | April 26, 2015

(It’s been a long work day for my husband, brother-in-law, and me, so we hit up our favorite Tex-Mex restaurant. It’s Father’s Day weekend, so it’s on the verge of being full.)

Greeter: *chewing gum* “Um, it’s gonna be, like, ten minutes.”

Husband: “That’s fine. We can wait.”

Me: “I expected a longer wait, honestly.” *as she’s about to walk away* “Um, don’t you want our name?”

Greeter: *sighs and rolls her eyes* “Yeah, what’s your name?”

Husband: “It’s [Last Name].”

Greeter: “How many in your party?”

Husband: “Just three of us.”

Greeter: “Oh, only three? I guess we can sit you now.”

(She sits us in the back by the kitchen, in a cramped booth. Most of the tables around us are dirty or the other customers have empty glasses and are looking around.)

Me: “I have a bad feeling about this. Two of the tables don’t have drinks and one of them has an empty chip bowl. Where’s our server?”

Husband: “Oh, no, I think we have the bad server from last visit!”

Me: “I hope not.”

Brother-In-Law: “Why? Who’s the bad server?”

Me: “She served us last time. She barely gave us drinks and waited thirty minutes before coming for our food order, and then she didn’t bother with us the rest of the night. We had to ask passing servers for refills and any chips or tortillas. She was busy in the kitchen flirting with someone. [Husband], will you go ask who’s serving this area? It’s been nearly five minutes.”

(My husband goes up front and is gone for another five minutes. In that time, we see a manager come in our area only to veer off to a large party’s table to flirt with some women.)

Husband: *comes back with an unhappy look* “Yeah, we’re in her area. Have you seen her?”

Me: “No, there’s been no one but that manager over there. It’s been nearly twenty minutes. I don’t think we’re going to get service.”

Husband: “Do we want to go somewhere else?”

Brother-In-Law: “Yeah, I think so. I don’t feel like waiting any longer.”

Bad Server: *finally coming up as we’re about to leave* “Hi, sorry it took so long. It’s been busy around here.”

Me: “We’ve been here twenty minutes. You haven’t been to any of your tables.”

Bad Server: “Oh, yeah, well, they have me running other tables in the back, too.”

Husband: “Actually, I saw you in the kitchen both times I passed talking to the same server.”

Me: “I think we’ve all agreed we would rather eat somewhere else.”

(As we leave, a lot of the same groups are sitting there looking supremely unhappy.)

Greeter: “Thanks, have a nice night.”

Me: “Oh, we will. We’re going somewhere that actually gives service.”

(We went to another restaurant nearby, where we were given awesome service from the moment we stepped in. In gratitude for being quick on everything, we gave the guy a $20 as a tip.)

Sandwiched Between The Truth And The Law

| Kirksville, MO, USA | Right | April 24, 2015

(A customer who is also a police officer comes through the drive thru with an empty sandwich box and his receipt. We ran out of the double quarter boxes so we’ve been using regular quarter ones and placing a sticker on top to tell them apart. This customer has one of the regular boxes with a sticker. He states he was given the wrong sandwich and demands another one even though the receipt is for double quarter and the box is correct. I ask my manager.)

Manager: “No. If the receipt and the box are both correct and they’ve already eaten the sandwich, I’m not going to just give him free food.”

(I return to the customer.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but both the box and the receipt are for a double quarter pounder and multiple coworkers say they checked it, and it was correct before you ate it.”

Police Officer: “Are you saying I’m a liar?”

Me: “I’m not saying you’re a liar—”

Police Officer: “Me? An officer of the law? You’re saying I’m lying just to get free food! This is ridiculous!”

Me: “Sir, I didn’t say you’re a liar. I’m saying we can’t prove it was the wrong sandwich because the box is correct and you’ve already eaten the food.”

Police Officer: “But you charged me for a double sandwich and gave me a single.”

Me: “Except the box—”

Police Officer: “I’m an officer of the law. Do you think I would just lie?! YOU CHARGED ME FOR THE WRONG SANDWICH.” *starts getting very confrontational*

Me: “Which you ate. The box is for what you paid for. My coworkers double check the orders and make sure they’re correct. I’m not saying you’re a liar, but everything on our end says it is the right sandwich, and my manager has already said no.

Police Officer: “What?! Are you kidding me? I want to speak to them immediately.”

(I give up and go get my manager. She tries to reason with him for a good minute before I hear him yell something I can’t understand and he speeds off.)

Manager: “He tried to pull Ferguson on me, saying we would have given him his food if it wasn’t for that shooting. I told him I didn’t know what I could do for him, but it wasn’t going to be a sandwich!”

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