Something About The Service You Can’t Put A Finger On

| Irmo, SC, USA | Working | October 17, 2015

(I am a waitress in a very busy restaurant. I drop off some appetizers to a very hungry table of five, who’d been waiting longer than usual to get their food. The customers all leap at the food, like a pack of starving wolves, before I’ve even finished placing the plate on the table.)

Me: “Whoa, there! Haha… I’m going to get out of your way before I lose a finger!”

(Silence. One woman gives me a death glare, another looks positively horrified. Just then, a member of their party holds up his hand, revealing three missing fingers.)

Customer: “Hey, I represent that remark!”

Me: “Oooooh, my goodness. I am so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to— I didn’t realize that— I meant—” *I am so embarrassed that I am bright red and just want to hide under a table!*

Customer: *laughing* “No, no, that was great! I lost these fingers on the job twenty years ago, more than enough time to develop a sense of humor about it.”

(My manager runs over, having heard what had just happened.)

Manager: “Sir, I am so sorry! We do NOT tolerate discrimination from our staff. Please, allow me to buy this meal for you.” *suddenly whips around and looks at me* “I will deal with you later.”

Customer: “Oh, that is not necessary! She didn’t mean to offend, and to be honest, seeing my sister-in-law so shocked made my night!” *turns to me* “I’m just glad someone finally brought the food! I thought I was going to have to start eating my OTHER hand!”

(My manager calmed down, and not only did the table leave me a nice note, they began requesting to sit in my section!)

1 Thumbs

What Would Jesus Order?

| KY, USA | Right | October 17, 2015

(I own a small diner in the middle of town. Despite how small it is, we get a fair amount of customers during the week. However, weekends tend to be extremely slow, usually to the point that I can run everything by myself on Saturdays and Sundays. It’s reached the point where I don’t even bother to stay open past one pm, as it’s extremely rare that anyone comes in after that on those days. On Sunday in particular, I have a group of three middle-age women who come in every week after church to grab some lunch. They tend to lecture and chastise me for working on a Sunday, but I tend to let it go since they’re otherwise fairly pleasant. However, one particular morning, they caught me in a somewhat bad mood…)

Woman #1: “Hello, . I’d have my usual, but no onions this time.”

Woman #2 and #3: *practically in unison* “Same here.”

(I go to prepare their orders, which doesn’t take long since they’re all rather easy to make. As expected, no one else has come in, so I decide to close up once they’re done. After I bring them their food, one of them looks at me with a concerned face.)

Woman #2: “You okay, sweetie? You look a little stressed out.”

Me: “Oh… it’s nothing serious. I just got caught in the middle of some drama between some friends, so I didn’t get much sleep.”

Woman #1: *scoffs* “Well maybe this is because you insist on working on Sundays. Clearly, the lord is punishing you!”

(The other two chime in, agreeing with the rather harsh comment, and I stare at them in disbelief. At that point, I finally snap, but I managed to keep my cool and take a different approach.)

Me: “Okay… you know what? You’re right. I really shouldn’t be working on Sundays.”

(I pause just long enough to watch them pat each other on the back for finally “convincing” me of how “wrong” I’ve been, then continue.)

Me: “So, from now on, I won’t open this place on Sundays anymore.”

Woman #3: *suddenly turning pale after it seemingly takes a moment for my words to register* “…Wait …what?”

Woman #2: *also catching on* “But… where will we go to eat then? You’re the only place around here that’s affordable!”

Woman #1: “Yeah! You can’t do this! We’ve been loyal customers ever since you opened this place up!”

Me: *shrugging and feigning conflicted feelings* “Well, I really am sorry. But you’ve been saying it yourselves. I shouldn’t work on Sundays, so that means I can’t open up on Sundays anymore.”

Woman #1: “W- well… I’m sure the lord will make an exception… just this once! After all, you’re serving his followers, so… yeah! I’m sure He’ll forgive you!”

(The other two hastily nodded in agreement, and I had an admittedly cocky grin plastered on my face for the rest of the day. Naturally, they haven’t given me any grief about working on Sundays ever since.)

1 Thumbs

Cherry Picking Your Dessert

, | WA, USA | Related | October 16, 2015

(My boyfriend’s teenage brother is staying with us for a short while to do some work for his dad, which has left him pretty worn and overwhelmed. We’re out grabbing dinner before picking my boyfriend up from work.)

Me: “Okay, I know you’re pretty stressed, so why don’t I buy you some ice cream?”

Brother: “Okay, I’ll have a [ice cream treat].”

Cashier: “Would you like chocolate, butterscotch, or cherry?”

Brother: “Cherry, please.”

(By the time we get the rest of our food, he’s almost done.)

Brother: “You know what? I’m so stressed, I completely forgot I don’t even like cherry! This whole time I didn’t even notice that’s what I got!”

Me: “You’re not getting another!”

A Sour Attitude

, | NJ, USA | Right | October 16, 2015

(I ring up a customer for a sweet tea. The sweet tea is self-serve, but we have lemon slices in the back that we can give the customer if requested.)

Customer: “I want lemon.”

Me: “Sure, no problem.” *puts slice of lemon in a small cup as is customary, and hands it to her*

Customer: *looks inside, makes disgusted face, gives it back* “No. That’s not what I wanted. I want SOME lemon.”

Me: “Um, we usually just give out one slice. How many did you want?”

Customer: “Whatever you consider to be SOME lemon.”

Me: *hesitantly gives her two more slices* “Here you go?”

Customer: “That’s too much.” *gives one back and walks away*

A Well-Choreographed Kitchen

| AB, Canada | Working | October 14, 2015

(I work in a restaurant doing food preparation. Our stations are situated behind the line where food is actually cooked, but there is a window in the partition that is open so we can communicate with each other. Note that I am fairly new and haven’t yet grasped all the kitchen terminology.)

Cook #1: “Can I get pans team to line?”

Me: *to another coworker* “Did he just say ‘dance team to line’?”

(Everyone in earshot erupts with laughter. The cooks from the pans team come up behind us, shuffling on their feet to get by.)

Cook #2: “Hey, we’re dancin’, aren’t we?”

Page 202/661First...200201202203204...Last
« Previous
Next »