An Umbrage Too Far

, , , | Right | December 5, 2018

(As a student, I have a job at a self-service restaurant. One of the duties of my department is “doing the hall,” which is essentially the task of taking away the dirty dishes people leave on the tables. The restaurant has a conveyor belt for the people to leave their dishes on, but of course we can’t force the customers to turn things in there themselves. Also, many people sitting on the other side of the restaurant aren’t able to find the conveyor belt. That resulted in dialogues like this:)

Customer: “Sorry, do you know where I can find the conveyor belt?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it’s that way, near the exit.”

Customer: “What? All the way over there?”

(Yes, they really said that to the employee who is obviously walking the same distance countless times every day. Even more assuming is this conversation I have with a big man with a dominant voice, who is putting his dishes on the belt.)

Customer #2: “Hey, I’m not surprised people are leaving their dishes on the tables! That belt really is far too far away!”

(Once again, I’m walking the same distance far more than he is. Also, lots of people sitting nearby the belt leave their dishes on the table, as well, so that has nothing to do with it.)

Customer #2: “Can’t you guys make a cart for that stuff, like so many other self-service restaurants have?”

(The suggestion of a cart wasn’t that weird. Weird was his idea that we should MAKE one, rather than buy it somewhere.)

Holy Moly Guacamole!

, , , , | Related | December 5, 2018

(My mother takes me to a seafood restaurant I’ve never been to before. I decide to try the tuna sashimi, and when it arrives, I notice something on my dish.)

Me: “What’s this green stuff?”

Mom: *as unsure as I am* “I think it’s guacamole.”

Me: “Oh! I love guacamole!”

(Elated, I enthusiastically dug in and took a very large bite… of the grandmother of all horseradish! That day was when I first learned about Wasabi.)

Unfiltered Story #131582

, , , | Unfiltered | December 5, 2018

So at my families restaurant,An angry customer comes in and
pays, My dad is dealing with this customer and this is what happens.

Irate Customer: Your food was so disgustin’! You better give me a discount or else I’ll call the Health department on you!

My dad: Well okay then,Heres the phone! *hands him the phone* Ill talk to them to if you want me to!

At this point this point the customer just becomes more mad,and throws the money at him and walked out. For some reason my dad walks out after him. Then the customer enters his car.

Irate Customer:What you got something to say to me? GO BACK TO MEXICO!

Irate Customer: *Realizes my dad is chinese*

Irate customer:Errm,Umm, GO BACK TO CHINA!

My Dad: *Trying to hold back the laughter* Okay sir you better step out of the car now.

Irate customer:Okay,When I will come out of the car,I will punch you.

At this point the wife of this huge doucheball of a man steps in

Customers Wife: HONEY JUST SHUT THE H*LL UP

Irate Customer *Starts to drive away*

Remember people,Dont tick of the people who make your food.

There’s No Sugar-Coating This Wasted Journey

, , , , , , | Romantic | December 4, 2018

A few years ago my husband I traveled from Ireland to the USA to complete a coast-to-coast road trip. One day we stopped for lunch in a restaurant that sold every variety of soda you can think of.

At the time, I had seen a lot of talk online about the Mexican version of a popular soda; people were going crazy over it because it apparently tasted so much better than the American version. The restaurant had the Mexican version in stock — at an inflated price of course — and I decided to order one to see what the fuss was about.

My drinks arrived and I took a sip, only to find it tasted exactly like the soda at home. I asked my husband to try it, too, and he said the same thing. That’s when I realised that the Mexican version of the soda is made with real cane sugar, just like in Ireland, and the American version is made with fructose corn syrup. I basically traveled all the way to America to pay through the nose for the same drink we can get at home! My husband still hasn’t let me live it down.

“Being Fat Makes You Diabetic” And Other Urban Legends Only Believed By Idiots

, , , , , | Working | December 3, 2018

(My mother had gestational diabetes when she was pregnant with me and my older brother. It is basically a form of diabetes that only affects pregnant women if their bodies cannot produce enough insulin due to the pregnancy. She needed to use insulin and a meter to manage her blood sugar. While she is getting used to the meter and insulin, an old friend wants to go out for lunch together to catch up. By this point in her pregnancy she is visibly pregnant, and this is the first time my mother needs to take her insulin with her in public. They go to a local family-owned diner and catch up. My mother checks her blood sugar while her friend steps out to go to the bathroom. She decides she needs insulin and takes the needle out of her purse, when suddenly:)

Waitress: *snatches needle and throws it on the floor* “What do you think you’re doing?! YOU. ARE. A. MOTHER. Don’t you care about your child? Don’t you have any shame, you junkie piece of s***?”

(My mother is speechless. Some other patrons notice the commotion and start watching.)

Mom: “I’m not an addict; this is my insulin. I’m diabetic, and I need it because—”

(Suddenly a man appears. He seems to be a manager.)

Manager: “[Waitress], don’t bother. She’s diabetic. So she isn’t pregnant, she’s just obese.”

(By this point my mom was panicking. She needed her insulin, everyone was staring, and the waitress and manager were hurling insults at her. Fortunately, her friend came out of the bathroom and saw my mother crying. After shooting the waitress and manager a dirty look, she went over to the table, took my mother’s hand, and led her out of the restaurant. My mother’s friend refused to pay the restaurant anything and helped my mother prepare another shot in the car before they went home. My mother was so embarrassed that she didn’t want to talk about what happened to anyone. She didn’t even tell my dad until years later. My family moved to a different town after my brother was born, so we don’t know if anything happened to the diner or its staff.)

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