It’s a super busy Valentine’s Day night. There is a small gap in reservations for one spot, and an old couple who is looking for a seat asks if they can sit until my next reservation comes. They seem sweet enough, and I get them settled with their coffee and tea and get their appetizer going.

The man starts to complain about the vent above them blowing cold air.

Customer: *Yelling* “Why would you purposely put on the AC when I am here?!”

Because our restaurant is part of a larger building with many other stores inside, we don’t have control over the temperature of the restaurant. And when there are a lot of people in the building, it tends to automatically switch to cold air as a safety mechanism for making sure the cooks in the kitchen and the servers running around don’t get overheated.

Me: “I don’t have the power to fix this problem; however, I would be more than happy to speak to my general manager to see if there’s anything they can do.”

He talked to them and explained the predicament, and the angry man yelled at me again when the manager left. His wife agreed that it was chilly but tried to tell me to just ignore her husband, who was still yelling at me.

Twenty minutes later, their main meal came out, and the man was red in the face. He said his meal tasted fine but that he would not be leaving the reserved booth that I had graciously let him sit in until the heating problem was fixed.

I got my other manager to talk to him, and they ended up comping an appetizer for him. His wife begrudgingly made him leave just in time for my next table to arrive.

A server puts in an order for a gin martini. I make it and set it on the bar.

Server: “Um… this guy said he wanted it perfect.”

Me: “Okay, then I need to remake it.”

Server: “Oh, why? What does that mean?”

Me: “Perfect means half dry and half sweet vermouth.”

Server: “Oh, I thought he just meant he wanted it really well made.”

I work in a restaurant. One of our worst employees — notoriously bad attitude, rude to guests and coworkers — is working as the expediter. She runs food out to a young couple. The guy had ordered a steak salad with grilled shrimp added on top. The expo says this as she’s putting their food down.

Expo: *To the guy’s date* “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping with him, because he’s going to be farting all night.”

Obviously, their server was horrified when they told her what happened and she comped their entire meal.

I work in a fast food sandwich shop. A couple with their autistic son are some of our favorite regular guests. Their son is very sweet but loves to wander the dining area telling people what the names of things are.

I’m doing a quick dining room clean-up when a customer flags me over.

Customer: “Why do you let people like that in here? That is a menace!”

It fills my heart and soul with pride to say…

Me: “Ma’am, that is Mr. and Mrs. [Regulars’ Last Name] and their son, [Son]. They are regular guests of our establishment and a welcome part of our family.”

She curses at me.

Me: “Thank you.”

The beauty and ugliness of humanity never cease to amaze me. I choose to be blessed.

I’m working in a restaurant as a waiter. A family of three is sitting at a table, ordering mainly fried foods. The mother gets herself our fried camembert with salad. Our camembert is a higher quality one which is breaded by hand two times to ensure that it won’t leak during frying.

A few minutes after receiving their food, the woman waves me over to their table.

Woman: “Everything is perfect, except I would like to complain about my camembert.”

Me: “Apologies, madam. What is the problem with the camembert?”

Woman: “It tastes really good, but as soon as I cut into it, all the cheese just flowed out onto my plate. This is unacceptable.”

I just stand there for a few seconds staring at her and her plate back and forth, thinking that she might be joking, but she is dead serious. I apologise again and, without touching the plate, I tell my manager. He goes to the table.

Manager: “I’ve heard that you had a complaint regarding one of the dishes. Could you explain it to me, please?”

Woman: “Yes, as soon as cut into my camembert, it just flowed out onto my plate. and this is not how it supposed to be.”

Manager: “Well, our camembert is freshly made to order with high-quality ingredients, and it is normal for melted cheese to do that if you cut into it.”

Woman: “Well, the ones I buy and fry at home from [Grocery Store] do not do that if I cut into it!”

My manager just apologises to her and asks if she would like to have another one on us. She says no and then cleans her plate without any further complaints. Later, when I have a chance to speak to my manager:

Me: “You know, the reason her cheese from the store isn’t like the one she had here is that it’s not cheese.”

Manager: “I know, but if I had told her, she probably would have started screaming at us because she knows better and I would have needed to comp their food. If you notice that your complaining customer has a lower IQ than you and your colleagues altogether, you should just shut your mouth, apologise, and go away so you don’t get into any trouble.”