(I work in a takeaway that sells fish and chips, burgers, and Chinese food, which is not unusual in New Zealand. While most phone orders get through fine, sometimes the caller is difficult to hear due to the burners and fans in the kitchen, which means I repeat the item as they order, and the whole order again at the end to minimise errors.)

Caller: “…and a bacon—” *unintelligible*

Me: “…and a bacon and egg burger?”

Caller: “Yes, that’s all.”

Me: *finishing repeating the whole order* “…and a bacon and egg burger.”

Caller: “Yes, that’s right. Put it under the name [Customer].”

(Later, the caller’s son comes back to pick the order up.)

Me: *finishing repeating the order to ensure it’s the one he’s after* “…and a bacon and egg burger.”

Customer: *really doesn’t know what’s going on* “Yeah, whatever; if it’s under [Customer], that’s the one.”

(He pays and leaves. Later I get a call from the mother over an incorrect order. She sounds very upset and rants for a little while.)

Caller: “You gave me the wrong item; I wanted a BACON EGG FOO YOUNG.”

Me: “I apologise for my mistake; I seem to have misheard you. Did you want to come back and pick up the egg foo young, or would you like us to take down your details so you can receive a free one on your next order?”

Caller: “Well, what I have isn’t enough, so I’m going to have to send someone to pick it up.”

Me: “All right. Sorry again for my mistake.”

(The son returns to pick it up. He’s not very polite about it despite my best efforts to apologise yet again, even though it was a communication error, and partly their fault for not clarifying the order with each other to save time going back to get the correct dish. Some weeks later, I get the same order by the same caller. The son comes to pick it up again.)

Me: *finishing repeating the whole order* “…and a bacon EGG FOO YOUNG.”

Customer: “Yeah, whatever, as long as it’s under [Customer]. Better get it right this time because you messed it up last time.”

Me: *screaming internally* “Sorry about that.”

(Our restaurant is divided into two rooms, and because the second room contains a TV and small arcade, it’s very popular among families. An action movie is playing on the TV, when a customer comes to me at the cash register.)

Customer: “Excuse me, but could you please change the channel to something more kid-friendly? That movie is completely inappropriate.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of that right away.”

(I go into the room and all the kids are either running around or playing in the arcade while paying little to no attention to what’s on TV, but I decide to oblige and begin flipping through the channels, when I finally reach Nickelodeon.)

TV: “Oooooooooooh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SpongeBob Squarepants!”

(I looked back to find all the kids that were bouncing off the walls were now taking a seat and quietly watching TV. Creeped out, I went back to my post.)

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(I work at an American Style burger restaurant. This exchange happens when a lady sends her burger back to the kitchen, so my manager goes over to see what the problem is.)

Customer: “There was cheese on that burger. I can’t eat cheese; I’m allergic.”

Manager: “It does say on the menu that the burger contains cheese, madam.”

Customer: “It didn’t; I checked before I ordered.”

(At this point, my manager gets a menu and points out where it says “mozzarella” in the burger description.)

Customer: “Mozzarella? What’s that?”

Manager: *trying to keep a straight face* “That would be a cheese, madam.”

(She still got a replacement burger, complaining all the time about the wait to cook another one.)

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(I am working as a front desk attendant when someone calls. Seconds after answering I recognize it as a prank call.)

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Restaurant]. My name is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Hi, I heard somewhere that after you guys close, there is a burlesque show. Is that true?”

Me: *caught off guard* “Uh… No. Sorry.”

Caller: “Really? Well, there went my weekend.”

Me: “Again, sorry for ruining your weekend.”

Caller: “Man, I love strippers. I could watch them all day and night.”

Me: “Well, that sounds like an expensive habit. You have a good night.”

(I hung up and my coworker standing next to me just died laughing.)

(I am allergic to dairy; I will go into shock if I have even a small amount. A surprisingly large amount of stuff has dairy in it and I hate making people wait while I check whether something will kill me, so I often go for the easiest thing on the menu. I meet this guy online and we go to a coffee shop to meet, safely, in person. I ask for soy in my drink and he asks if it is for flavour reason; I state that it is a dietary requirement, but we don’t talk much about it further than that. We decide to continue with the relationship, and a week or so later we go on our first date. He chooses an Italian place for dinner, which is a very risky place for me to go to. I find it a little odd, considering the coffee shop, but I just go for a vegan dish to be safe. A few weeks later, he invites me out to a steak place. I have never been to this place and I can’t find a website to check their menu prior to going. It’s a little bit worrying, but I know most dairy in a steakhouse is in the optional sauces. When I arrive, my date keeps glancing at me, which I don’t really understand. We are seated and given menus, and he is now staring at me intently.)

Me: “What?”

Date: *somewhat smugly* “You won’t find anything vegan on the menu.”

Me: “What’s your point?”

Date: *smug look falters* “Huh?”

Me: “I said, ‘What’s your point?’ I’m not vegan.”

Date: “But… The soy? And at the Italian place?”

Me: “I’m allergic to dairy. Severely allergic, actually, so vegan is a safe choice for me. You took me to a steakhouse thinking I was a vegan?” *pause* “And you thought I would accept it if I was a vegan?”

Date: “W-Well, I thought it would be funny to watch you struggle.”

Me: “You wanted to watch the little vegan get upset over not being able to eat off the menu. Wow.”

Date: “But this is great that you’re just allergic! That means you’re fine to be with!”

Me: “What?”

Date: “Yeah, ’cause vegans are crazy! You don’t f*** crazy!”

(I stare at him.)

Me: “You’re totally right; you don’t f*** crazy. I don’t f*** crazy, or stupid, or a**holes. See ya.”

(I get that some vegans are in your face about it, but that guy was just a jerk.)

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