(A customer recently picked up a salad from our carry-out. Later, she calls back to tell us that when she got home, she found only lettuce in the box, no toppings. Because I am the manager, I just tell her to come back with the salad so we can replace it.)

Customer: *coming in and shoving the box at me* “Here!”

Me: *opening the box and indeed seeing only the lettuce*

Customer: “See? What kind of place is this? I want one with actual ingredients in it, not just this rabbit food!”

Me: *looking from her to the box* “Ma’am, I think I know the problem here.” *I close the box, flip it over, open it, and come face-to-face with the rest of the salad – all ingredients included.*

Customer: “Oh…”

Me: “Here’s your salad back, ma’am. I hope you have a great day.”

(I work morning shifts at a very popular drive-thru over my winter break to get money for school. Unfortunately, this morning our coffee machine does not start up properly, so our manager is taking a look at it.)

Me: “Welcome to [Restaurant]. Can I take your order?”

Customer: “Yes, ma’am, can I get a sausage biscuit and a hot mocha with whole milk?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our coffee machine is down right now. Would you still like the biscuit?”

Customer: “WHAT?!”

Me: *thinks she didn’t hear me, so I repeat myself*

Customer: “But that’s stupid! Why isn’t working?”

Me: “I don’t know, ma’am. Our manager is looking at it now.”

Customer: “Oh, okay, let’s see… can I get a latte?”

Me: “…”

(We are allowed to say something to a guest if they litter in our drive through, especially if it’s at the window.)

Customer: *dumps can of drink out at my window*

Me: *hands him his change, and some coins fall on the ground*  “Sorry about that, some of them will be wet because people rudely pour their drinks out in my drive through.”

Customer: “Uh, oh, sorry about that.”

I was a very loud, hyperactive, and rather undersized child of no more than four when this happened. My family had just finished a meal at [Restaurant], and being the walking cartoon character I was, I wandered off, only to spy the remnants of someone else’s meal at an unoccupied table.

There was something that, to my eyes, looked very appetizing, and I didn’t give a rat’s a** that it was half-eaten already, so I reached up and grabbed a fistful of what I innocently presumed was a dessert and crammed it in my mouth. It was not a dessert.

It was an onion blossom slathered in hot sauce.

I eventually made my way back to my family, and refused to eat onions in pretty much any form again until I was well into my teens. My mother could not for the life of her figure out why.

(I’m well-known around my work as being a Pokémon fan, having been one since before I started working here about 17  years ago, so it is no surprise when I start playing “Pokémon Go”. A coworker’s little girl, who’s about four, is obsessed with Pokémon as well. One day, my coworker swings by our work while I’m working, to drop some supplies off. As she and I are chatting, her daughter is running around the place playing “Go”.)

Me: “Did you pick up [Item]?”

Coworker: “Yeah, it’s on the back table.”

Daughter: *running up to us* “Mommy! I caught a Pidgy!”

Coworker: “You know, [Daughter], [My Name] plays Pokémon, too.”

Daughter: “We can play together!”

Me: “That’s okay, hun; I’m supposed to be working.”

Daughter: “Okay!” *runs off again*

(A few minutes later she runs up to us again.)

Daughter: “I just caught an Oddish!”

Me: “Exciting! Those are kind of uncommon.”

Daughter: “Yeah!”

(She runs off again, and we resume talking, and [Daughter] returns again in few minutes.)

Daughter: “I found a Jigglypuff!”

Me: *to coworker* “Excuse me; I’m gonna go catch this too…”

Coworker: *laughs*