Breaking Bread With The Dungeon Master

, , , | Hopeless | August 11, 2017

(Up until this point, my day hasn’t been going well. It started with a car issue where several pieces of my engine just kind of fell off, leaving me to walk everywhere in 95 degree heat. Then the tow truck driver was angry and aggressive, and the kids at my job were especially crazy. I stop on my way home at a popular sandwich shop to pick up some cheap, day-old bread for dinner.)

Me: “Hi, I hate to do this during the rush, but can I just have a loaf of day old bread?”

Cashier: “Have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons?”

Me: “Yes?”

Cashier: “Then you just rolled a natural 20. We don’t have any day-olds, so here’s a fresh loaf, and it’s on us.”

Me: *completely flustered with gratitude* “Thank you so much! This day has been pretty rough; I had major car trouble, and work was insane. I really needed something like this.”

Cashier: “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you’re safe, and I’ll always be here if you need your day turned around again!”

(I think I’ll be going there a lot more often!)

That’s Still More Than Trump Gives Back

, , , , | Right | August 11, 2017

(I work at a popular restaurant in Las Vegas. We get a diverse group of people from different cultural and political backgrounds. This particular day is like any other, until this exchange occurs:)

Customer: *wearing a ‘Make America Great Again’ hat* “I’m only going to give you a 10% tip because you didn’t do a great job.”

Me: “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Customer: “Oh, no, no, not at all. You were fine; you just weren’t great. Have a nice day!”

Me: “All right, we’ll see you next time.” *quietly, to myself* “Next time I’ll make table-side service great again…”

Not Behaving Like An Adult

, , , , , | Right | August 10, 2017

(We have a promotion where children, after reading a few books, can receive a free kid’s meal with the purchase of a corresponding adult entree, A woman calls and asks some questions about the deal.)

Customer: “How exactly does your promotion work?”

Me: “Well, after the children have read the necessary number of books, they will receive a free kid’s meal when they come in, provided you order a corresponding number of adult entrees.”

Customer: “So if I have two adults and three kids…”

Me: “In that case, you would receive the two free children’s meals because you’re ordering two adult entrees.”

Customer: *who until now had been pleasant, but immediately became nasty & irate* “So that really sucks if I come in with two adults and three kids, huh?”

Me: “I’m so sorry, but unfortunately that’s how this promotion works.”

Customer: “Fine. We’ll just go somewhere else then.”

(She then hung up rather abruptly. I don’t know anywhere she could go to get three free kid’s meals after purchasing only two adult entrees, and if she knew of one, she should have just gone there in the first place!)

One Ring To Prove It All, And In The Darkness ID Them

, , , , , | Working | August 9, 2017

(I am at a business conference. The dinner for the conference that night is at a restaurant. Because the conference is paying for drinks, they are carding at the door. I’m Mormon, and therefore don’t drink. I’m not familiar with how these types of places work — since I don’t drink, I don’t frequent them — and I do bear some responsibility for not knowing how carding procedures work. In line, I step up to him.)

Door Guy: “Do you have ID?”

Me: “I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “Doesn’t matter. The drinks are generally available in the layout, so everyone needs ID.”

Me: “Oh. I’m 25. Let me dig out my license.”

Door Guy: “You should have had it ready!”

Me: “I apologize. As I said, I don’t drink. I didn’t know you needed them for everyone.”

Door Guy: “You should have known!”

Me: “I’m sorry; I don’t drink, so I don’t know how this works.”

Door Guy: *scoffs* “Sure you don’t drink! You were hoping I’d let you through without ID because of that.”

Me: *showing him my license* “Here it is. See, I’m 25.”

Door Guy: “That’s a fake.”

Me: “No, it’s not.”

Door Guy: “Utah is the easiest state to fake their licenses. That’s a fake.”

Me: “Or I just live in Utah.”

Door Guy: “You tried to get out of showing ID, and then you give me the most faked state.”

Me: “I really am sorry that I didn’t have it ready. I didn’t know, because I don’t usually have this situation as I don’t drink.”

Door Guy: “People don’t just not drink.”

Me: “It’s for religious reasons. I’m Mormon.”

Door Guy: “A likely story.”

Me: “No, really.”

(Not sure what else to do, I hold up my hand which has a CTR ring, a common Mormon jewelry. Though generally only worn by Mormons, there’s no reason that someone else couldn’t wear one. It’s a bit like a Jew wearing a Star of David. There’s no reason someone else couldn’t wear one, but there’s no reason they would. The door guy looks at my hand.)

Door Guy: “Oh, you really are. Come on in!”

(I’m still not sure why he doubted the valid ID, but wearing a ring? Proof!)

Throwing Change Brings About Change

, , , , , | Right | August 8, 2017

(I work morning shifts at a very popular fast food restaurant. As usual, our drive-thru is pretty backed up, and it takes a couple minutes for cars to reach the first window. This exchange happens during our rush, at about eight am.)

Me: “Ok, so your total will be [amount].”

Driver: “Well, here you go.” *hands me three handfuls of change* “You have your work cut out for you!”

Me: “No worries!”

(I start counting the change. He tries to pull forward.)

Me: “Excuse me, but I have to keep you here until I finish counting, to make sure that it’s all here.”

Driver: *condescendingly* “Good luck stopping me.”

(He tries to “poke fun” by pretending to start pulling forward. This happens so often, I don’t even react, because the minute they pull away I can radio the front and tell them not to give him his food until I’m done.)

Me: “So, it looks like you’re actually missing a dollar.”

Driver: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes.” *I then make a point of counting his payment again, out loud, showing that he’s a dollar short*

(He mutters a bit and digs around again, with some help from his passenger.)

Driver: “Here. Here’s your f****** money!”

(He then proceeds to throw about $1.16 at me, all in change. Most of it hits m in my face, shoulder, and chest. Luckily I am wearing glasses, so none hits me in the eyes. As it falls to the ground around me, he speeds to the next window.)

Me: “…and you have a nice day, sir.”

(Luckily, a coworker was there and saw the whole thing, so she went and told my manager. My manager parked him, saying that they were waiting on his food. She came out to his car five minutes later with his total payment refunded onto a gift card, and told him that he wouldn’t be getting his food there that day, or ever again.)

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