(I am a teenage girl working at a popular restaurant in downtown. Nearby, there is a Baptist church. People regularly come to the restaurant straight after church, which is the one of the reasons why it is so popular in the first place. A woman enters and immediately comes to the front of the line.)

Customer: “I am starving! I just came from church and the service took super long. Let me go in front of these other people. They are not as f****** hungry as I am!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we cannot let you go first; these people have been waiting for a very long time. The wait will be approximately 35 minutes. Would you like to reserve a spot in line?”

Customer: “WHAT?! This is unacceptable. Jesus said to us, ‘The first will be last and the last shall be first.’ You should let me in front!”

Me: “I am sorry, but—”

Customer: “NO BUTS! Let me in front, you little b****! I bet you are an atheist! You’re going to Hell!”

Me: *clearly shaken but full of rage* “Ma’am, I understand the irritation, but there is no reason for you to ever treat me like you just did. Jesus also said to treat others as we would like to be treated. How would you like it if someone barged in and cut in line after you had patiently waited? I certainly wouldn’t.”

Customer: *silence*

Me: “If you think that is following what Jesus wants, you are clearly mistaken.”

Customer: “Fine! I’ll go to [Competitor]! Little b****!”

Me: “Please do so, and good luck being a Christian! And by the way, I don’t think I’m going to Hell anytime soon. I’m Catholic.”

Customer: *storms out*

(Everyone in the restaurant cheered for me and one gentleman bought me some cannoli!)

(During my week of exploring professional opportunities in the Boston metro area, I sign up to attend an evening networking event at a hotel. For what it’s worth, I am an Indian-American, with no accent, and this hotel is in an affluent, predominantly Caucasian suburb just west of Boston. I arrive at the hotel several hours early and plan to work on my other job search activities while having a late lunch. The waitress immediately seats me and gives me a menu. I order my sandwich.)

Waitress: “Okay, so, that is [sandwich] and just water. Great! I will immediately place your order. Now, I just need to keep your credit card on file.”

Me: “Um, why would you need to keep my credit card with you?”

Waitress: “Well, that is our policy for our hotel guests.”

Me: “I’m not a guest here; I’m a little early for an evening networking event on your patio.” *points to the outdoor space just past the patio doors* “Also, I have never experienced or heard of this type of hotel restaurant policy. Don’t you keep hotel tabs?”

Waitress: “Oh.” *pause* “Well, I still need to hold onto your credit card. It is our policy.”

Me: “Well, I will just pay for my meal with cash instead.”

Waitress: “You can pay with cash… and I still need to hold onto the card.”

(At that point, I am very upset with this terrible treatment and decide to leave.)

Me: “This is absolutely horrible service! You clearly do not want to serve me. I am going complain to your management!”

(Still fuming, I ask the front desk person if this hotel has a policy on keeping guests’ credit cards “on file” while they are dining in the restaurant.)

Front Desk Staff: *with a completely bewildered expression* “Um, no, ma’am. I have never heard of that policy, and I am certain it is not our hotel’s policy. I am very sorry you experienced that from our restaurant staff.”

(In the end, another coffee shop gave me two free desserts after hearing this story. I also returned to the hotel for the networking program, walked straight through that same restaurant with no problems, and enjoyed that event.)

(I’m a manager for a popular casual restaurant. I receive a phone call from an upset customer.)

Caller: “Why don’t you offer allergy menus? My daughter almost died from eating calamari! Why would you serve her something that she is allergic to, and she’s pregnant!”

Me: “I do apologize for your daughter’s condition and we do offer a dozen different types of menus which do include an allergen menu, nutritional menus, large print menus, etc.”

Caller: “How am I supposed to know you have these menus?!”

Me: “Did you ask? Also, if your daughter knew she was allergic to calamari, why would she order it?”

Caller: “She didn’t know she was allergic to it! That’s why I was asking about the allergen menu!”

Me: “Okay, so, if she doesn’t know that she is allergic to calamari, how are we supposed to know?”

Caller: *realizes the paradox* “Well, she’s pregnant and I am really scared.”

(I’m a mom of two.)

Me: “I understand you are scared and when a person is pregnant their body goes through a lot of changes; consult with the doctor and I hope she will be okay.”

(I never got a call back I wonder if she still thinks we should automatically know if someone is allergic to something.)

Related:
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 11
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 10
Allergic To Common Sense, Part 9

(I’m a male server and nearly all of my direct coworkers are women. I’m also a Christian and this is no secret to anyone I work with. While at work in the server station at my restaurant, one of my coworkers is discussing plans for a get-together with a few of the other servers. Foolishly, I ask what they’ll be doing.)

Coworker: *with defiance* “I’m hosting a sex toy party.”

(This produces the immediate image in my mind of middle-aged women sitting around in a circle, sharing and discussing various dildos. It’s such an unsettling picture that I guess I noticeably wince.)

Coworker: *reacting* “You know what, Church Boy? There’s nothing wrong with sex! It’s what people do! Maybe if you’d bother taking that Jesus stick out of your a** you’d learn some things about life!”

(A defensive argument could have ensued but I kept responses to myself and went back to work.)

(I’m having brunch with my dad when my phone alarm goes off to remind me to take my pill. I reach into my purse, keep my hands below the level of the table, and quietly pop a pill out of the pack. I palm the pill and raise it to my mouth.)

Dad: *cringes* “You shouldn’t take birth control in front of your father.”

Me: *annoyed because I tried to be subtle enough for him to ignore it, and also because I’m in my twenties* “Sorry. Would you rather I wait, miss taking it at the same time every day, and increase my chances of getting pregnant?”

Dad: *cringes harder* “No!”