(I am on my lunch at a popular fast food restaurant. I am wearing a similar shirt as the employees and still have my name-tag on. A little boy approaches me as I am filling my soda.)
Boy: “Where’s the mustard?”
Me: *not yet realizing he thinks I am an employee* “Um, I’m not sure… Sorry.”
(He gives me a dirty look and goes back to his table. I see him say something to his mom and she turns to glare at me. As I walk up to get my food she marches up to the counter.)
Mother: “I want this employee fired. She wouldn’t even help my son find something because she is too busy stuffing her face!”
Employee: “Um, she doesn’t work here.”
(The mother looked over at me, saw the name of the furniture store I actually work at on my tag, and stormed out with her son in tow.)
Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 24
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 23
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 22
It is Christmas Eve. Around dinnertime my sister, my mom, my mom’s boyfriend, and I go to this old-fashioned restaurant. I am kind of on-the-fence about my mom’s new boyfriend, not really sure how to feel about him. He is a very cool guy, but can be very strict when I or my sister don’t do things like put our dishes in the dishwasher or leave lights on through the night.
After we get our food, and I have eaten to the point where I am stuffed, I am messing around on my phone. Suddenly, I hear the sound of a quiet cry coming from behind me. I turn around in my chair to see this little old lady sitting at the table behind ours, all by herself. She’s talking to the waiter and crying while gripping his shirt-sleeve.
I ask my family if they know what’s going on, but no one knows. After a minute or so, our waiter comes over to the table and ends up revealing to us that my mom’s boyfriend had anonymously paid the woman’s tab, because she was all by herself on Christmas Eve, and thought she needed some genuine kindness.
The woman was crying because she was so taken aback, and was begging the waiter to tell her who paid the bill, but he just told her that they absolutely wanted to stay anonymous.
My mom and sister and I all agree that it is the coolest thing we have ever seen someone do.
Ever since then I have held a lot of respect for him; to do such a nice thing for someone who clearly needed some cheering up was the most kind act I had ever witnessed. Since then I have made sure to not leave messes around the house and always put my dishes in the dishwasher. And if he ever asks me for a favor or needs help, I will always lend him a hand. But more than that, I have held him in very high regard since then, and have defended him to other people, even his own kids.
Customer: “Is there anything you can do about how bright the sun is shining off of the ocean?”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, the awnings are already drawn.”
Customer: “Can’t you hire someone to come and put up shades; the sun is ruining our Thanksgiving dinner.”
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, there is no one available to install shades at this moment. Can I move you to another table away from the window?”
Customer: “NO. I want to see the ocean; I just don’t want the sun to bounce off of it so brightly. Is there anything else you can do to fix our Thanksgiving?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am, I will call Stephen Hawking to explode the sun in the sky. Will that work for you?”
Customer: “I’d like to speak to your manager!”
(I work in a country club where the customers tend to be wealthier people who are used to getting their way. A waiter comes into the kitchen with a plate of food that went out no more than five minutes ago.)
Waiter: “Umm… This guy wants a different meal.”
Me: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
Waiter: “He said it was too fishy tasting, and too… saffron-y.”
Me: “It’s poached walleye in saffron sauce! What did he expect?”
Waiter: “I’m not sure…”
(My husband and I approach the host stand in a restaurant where you do NOT seat yourself.)
Husband: “Table for two, please.”
Hostess: “Do you know where you want to sit? Iiiinsiiiide, ouuuutsiiiide?” *she continuously drags out her words as she talks*
Husband & Me: “Inside, please.”
Hostess: “Okaaaay… do you knoooooow… where? Like, what tabllllle? Over therrrrrre?” *gestures to one side of the dining room* “Or therrrrre?” *gestures to other side* “Orrrrr…” *trails off*
Husband: *to me* “Let’s just go sit down somewhere.”
(We went over to a table and seated ourselves. The hostess waited until we sat down, and then came to the table with menus. I’m not sure she actually knew what a hostess does.)
