(This is my first job. Part of my job training somehow did not include the register, so I was never properly trained. This means that if my boss, who normally does register, has to go out for a delivery, one of the cooks rings up customers instead. This time it is a rather hefty bill, the cooks have absolutely refused to help, and the customer isn’t waiting.)

Me: “Listen, at least come and show me how to do this. The customer is irate. I really shouldn’t, but you won’t help me.”

Cook: “It’s easy; just follow the buttons.”

(I go out and try to ring them up. Thankfully the customer is understanding enough when I keep messing up. I get through, take their payment, and send them on their way. I do come up short, but don’t realize it until the owner brings it to my attention.)

Owner: “You! Did you cash out that large bill?”

Me: “Yes. The cooks wouldn’t help, despite not having anything to do or being busy cooking, and [Coworker] wouldn’t answer her phone. I tried to do it. If I came up short, I’m sorry; I’m willing to pay for it at the end of the night.”

Owner: “You idiot girl! You came up $13 short! What were you doing on the register in the first place?! I told you that you are not to be on it! This is why! You’re the reason this place is going down!”

(The owner continues to berate me until I am in tears. The place has already been going down since before I started work, and she also knows I am autistic and have anxiety. She also does this in front of customers until one steps up.)

Customer: “Hey, she’s doing a good job; stop yelling at her. If anything, go yell at those cooks, if it was their job. Honestly, this girl is one of your better waitresses; at least she checks on us and smiles, and doesn’t smell like she’s been drinking on the job.”

Owner: “I-I… but she rang it up wrong!”

Customer: “And she offered to pay it up to make up the difference. Now, let her get back to her job.”

Me: “Th-thank you…”

(I was able to make more than enough to pay it up, and I did. This was just one of many times she got on my case, including letting my coworker’s friend steal my tips when I wasn’t looking. At the end, she didn’t even tell me she was closing the restaurant. I found out when my then-boyfriend — now my husband — asked if I was looking for another job. She also withheld checks for weeks. The place has been closed and a new, much better Chinese buffet has taken its place!)

(I’m hostessing at a restaurant near a very well-known theater and we have just emptied out after a massive rush. We ran out of a certain beer and in midst of the craziness, we forgot to take down signs on our revolving door advertising the said beer we ran out of. A group of loud intoxicated people come in the revolving door. With some back and forth — I have trouble understanding them — I finally get them seated at a table.)

Me: *to their server* “Heads up, they’re really drunk.”

Server: “Got it, thanks.” *the servers determine if intoxicated people can be served or not*

(He heads over to the table. The next thing I know, one of the drunkest, burliest men is yelling at the server and I catch “sign” and “door” and the name of the beer we ran out of.)

Server: *to me as he walks quickly to get a manager* “He’s upset because we don’t have that beer were advertising on the door.”

(The manager goes over and apologizes for our mistake and explains we are just bouncing back from a packed house that had an hour-plus wait. The drunk angry man stands up and starts swearing, and my equally burly manager kind of guides him to the door and asks him to leave. The drunk guy keeps screaming about false advertisement and then starts RIPPING off all the signs in the revolving door, as he’s going through it.)

Manager: *while the few remaining guests stare* “Well, at least he saved us the trouble of taking them off that door.”

(Luckily we all got a good chuckle, especially at the immaturity of that man.)

(This happens shortly after the EU Referendum in the UK:)

Customer: “Could I have the non-European menu, please?”

Me: “The non-European menu?”

Customer: “Yes. The menu you give to non-Europeans.”

Me: “Sorry, we don’t have a menu like that.”

Customer: “Well, you should. We won’t be in Europe anymore in two years. Get on it!”

Me: “Well, the UK will still be in Europe; it just won’t be part of the EU.”

Customer: *laughs with her friend* “Oh, you poor millennial. No wonder you all voted to stay. You’re as thick as two short planks, I swear.”

Me: “Actually I couldn’t vote.”

Customer: “Why ever not?”

Me: “I’m Norwegian.”

(I’ve never seen someone get up and leave as quickly as she did. She screamed about how the restaurant was “for the dogs,” and that we’d all be deported. Her friend stayed behind, continuing to laugh.)

Friend: “Thanks for that. She’s been getting on my nerves for weeks. I needed a good laugh!”

This story is part of the Millennials Roundup!

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Read the Millennials Roundup!

(At my restaurant, I work the morning shift. In order to avoid serving old or cold coffee we don’t brew a pot until a customer asks. These are my very first customers of the day.)

Customer: “Our coffee is cold! Take it and replace it with Shirley Temples.”

(Meanwhile, steam is still rising from their cups.)

Me: “Are you sure you don’t just a fresh cup of coffee? Shirley Temples are $1 more.”

Customer’s Wife: “You don’t really expect us to pay for them after you served cold coffee, do you?”

Me: “Ma’am, there is steam rising from your coffee cups still. I can replace the coffee, and I won’t charge you for them, but if you want a Shirley Temple it’s the full price.”

(They opened their mouths to talk back, but closed them again, and then asked for the faux cocktails. They didn’t speak to me for the rest of their meal.)

(This was about ten years ago on New Year’s Day. It is my then-boyfriend’s birthday and I am out with his family for dinner at a well-known Chicago-style pizza place. We have ordered three pizzas and are talking while waiting for our food, when our waitress comes walking towards our table with a tray of food. The waitress trips and drops the whole tray of food on the table next to ours.)

Waitress: “F***.” *leaves the food and tray where it is and storms out*

Boyfriend’s Mom: “Was that our food?”

Me: “Do you think she’s coming back?”

(After a few minutes, another man comes out.)

Manager #1: “Hi, folks, I’m sorry to tell you that was your food. I’m the manager; your waitress has walked out. If you would tell me what you ordered, I’ll re-order it for you. It’ll be on us.”

(We reorder all our food and a few salads in the meantime. We are waiting and talking for about five minutes when another employee comes up to us.)

Manager #2: “Good evening, folks. I’m so sorry about this. I’m the assistant manager. What was your order? I’ll go check on it.”

(We repeat everything we had just told the first manager, including the two salads that we’d recently ordered. We continue to talk for another ten minutes when a new waiter comes out with four salads.)

New Waiter: “Hello, I will be your waiter. Here are your salads. What pizzas did you order?”

Boyfriend’s Dad: “We only ordered two salads.” *he then repeats our pizza order*

New Waiter: “Oh, keep the salads. I will check on your pizza.”

(About twenty minutes later, NINE pizzas came out. They told us to keep them, and it was all on the house!)

This story is part of the New Year’s Day roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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