The restaurant I’m going to has an app that lets you order a meal ahead of time to be picked up. Before I leave for the restaurant, I order a pasta dish with chicken added to it on the app. A minute later, I get a phone call from the restaurant, and a flustered employee tells me, “The, uh… the machine that makes the chicken is down.”

I change my order to have meatballs instead. On my way to the restaurant, I’m wondering what “the machine that makes the chicken” is. A meat slicer, maybe? When I get there, I see approximately five signs warning me that they cannot make any pot-stickers or chicken because a particular piece of equipment is broken.

It’s the grill. The word she was looking for was “grill.” She must have been having a rough day.

(It is my 14th birthday, and I am going to a local restaurant to celebrate with my cousin and little brother. I am a bit shy, so I don’t really speak out a lot. As we come in, get seated, and place our orders, a bit of time passes by. I do not mind, as I can wait long times for my food. It has only been 30 minutes, and it is busy. My cousin, though, starts to get irate.)

Cousin: “D***, what is taking so long for our food?” *waves a nearby waiter to us* “Hey, what is taking so long?”

Waiter #1: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience; we’re really busy today and it takes longer to prepare the food, but it will be out shortly.” *walks away*

(Another few minutes pass, and we finally get our food.)

Cousin: *looking at the plates* “What is this? This looks f****** stupid. Hey, [My Name], do you have any problem with it?”

Me: “Uh… no. I don’t think it looks odd.”

Cousin: *waving another waiter* “What the h*** is this food? I want a manager, now!”

Waiter #2: “I’m sorry; I’ll get one for you right away.”

(A few minutes pass, and the manager walks over to us.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Cousin: “First of all, it took a long-a** time to get our food, the food looked awful, and [My Name] had to deal with it!”

Manager: “I’m terribly sorry for that. I’ll see my employees on that, as well as you getting a discount.”

(We finish our food and leave, discount in hand, the staff apologizing to us, but as we walk out of the store, I finally say something.)

Me: “Why’d you have to complain? I didn’t have any problems with the whole thing, and you just made a scene about it.”

Cousin: “Well, yeah, but I got a discount for it, so…”

(To this day, I still don’t understand why she did that, on my birthday of all days!)

(While out to eat, the topic of what foods are vegetables comes up. These are just some of the food items that we bring up.)

Brother: “Is watermelon a vegetable?”

Me: “No. Lettuce is a vegetable.”

Dad: “Really? Is lettuce a vegetable?”

Mom & Me: “Yes.”

Me: “What would you classify lettuce as?”

Dad: “Cow food.”

Brother: “Tomatoes?”

Mom: “Yes, well… it’s technically a fruit.”

Me: “It’s a fruit that identifies as a vegetable.”

Mom: “Like avocados. And cucumbers.”

Dad: “Avocados are fruit; they grow on trees. Like apples and oranges.”

Mom: “What about nuts?”

Brother: “Are nuts a vegetable?”

Me: “No, nuts are nuts.”

Brother: “Potatoes?”

Me: “They’re a root.”

Mom: “Like carrots.”

Me: “Or onions, though onions are more a spice thing. Like garlic.”

Mom: “Also a root.”

Me: “Parsnips?”

Mom: “Those are disgusting.”

(Our restaurant is open late to accommodate the late-night, usually drunk, crowd of college students. This particular night is exceptionally busy due to a now-traditional party weekend created by students a few years ago. As I am wrapping sandwiches, an obviously drunk customer is looking at t-shirts we have on display on our counter.)

Customer: “Hey, how much are your shirts?” *picks one up to look at it*

Me: “They’re [price], but you’ll have to go back to the register to pay for it.”

Customer: “Oh, okay.”

(He continues to hold the shirt while I go back to wrapping sandwiches. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slowly lower the shirt below the counter and start fumbling with his shirt, trying to stuff our t-shirt into his pants to steal it.)

Me: “So… are you going to pay for that, or just try to steal it while I’m obviously watching you?”

Customer: “Oh. I, uh… I was, uh… I mean…” *puts the shirt back on the counter*

Me: *removing the shirts from the counter* “Right, then. I’ll just move these out of your way.”

(The customer was fine after that, and since he didn’t technically steal anything, and since we were super busy, I decided trying to kick him out wasn’t worth it. The rest of the employees and I just laughed at him for being a poor thief.)

(I’m at a restaurant with my husband and his parents, along with our six-week-old daughter. She is currently happily asleep in her carrier. We’ve been seated and are waiting for our waitress. The waitress arrives, calling everyone “honey” and “sweetie.”)

Waitress: “Oh, what a cute little baby! So quiet.”

Me: *proud* “Yeah, she’s six weeks old. She’s a pretty good baby!”

Waitress: “My kids were never quiet like this! Ain’t she gonna wake up?”

Me: “She just ate, so probably not…”

Waitress: “Maybe when your food comes out she’ll wake up!”

(She then went and got our drinks. She often came back to see if my daughter was still sleeping. When she brought our meals, she SLAMMED my plate down, then checked the carrier. At this point, it was evident that she was TRYING to wake the baby, who was still happily asleep. The kicker came when the waitress brought our bill and actually intentionally reached out and smacked the back of the carrier to try to wake her! The carrier was out of the way, and the waitress wasn’t just reaching for something and accidentally bumped it. Luckily, my daughter continued to sleep. We still tipped, but who insists on trying to wake a baby?! A manager would have been called over swiftly if she had woken up my daughter!)