At my restaurant, many of our orders are takeout orders placed by phone. Since we’re one of many in the area, a common mistake customers can make is confusing locations and placing their order at another location instead of ours. If that happens, we’re usually able to identify the misunderstanding and send them on their merry way to the sister location that actually has their order waiting for them.

We’re in the middle of a dinner rush when a regular known to be grumpy and rude comes in.

Regular: “Order under [Name #1].”

Our cashier checks but finds no order under that name. She proceeds onto the standard troubleshooting:

Cashier: “Is there another name it could be under? Do you know what’s on the order?”

Regular: *Already agitated* “I don’t know! My wife called it in. Try [Name #2].”

No dice, which at this point most likely means they have mistakenly placed their order at another location.

Cashier: “Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be an order under those names. Do you know which phone number your wife called? It might’ve been [Location #1] or—”

Regular: “No, I know she called here! I’m sure of it! We only come here! Are you telling me that you don’t have our order? That’s just ridiculous!”

He starts berating the cashier for our supposed incompetency, necessitating an intervention. Finally, we convince him to phone his wife for confirmation, which he does while still angrily muttering about us losing his order.

Regular: *On the phone* “I’m here at [Restaurant] and these girls are telling me they don’t have our order!” *Pause* “What?” *Pause* “You didn’t order here? And you have it already?” *Pause* “Well, why didn’t you tell me earlier?! Now you’ve made me look stupid!”

He hung up and left without so much of an apology, of course.

I’ve been having a bad time: I was just laid off from my job, I caught my boyfriend with my best friend who threw me out of our shared apartment, and I started my period.

My sisters decide to take me out to my favorite restaurant for lunch and we order a nacho plate, fried pickles, chicken strips, cheeseburgers, and Cokes. The waiter appears after our food has arrived.

Waiter: “Got a lot of food there, ladies. Don’t you think you have enough?”

He laughs like it’s funny, but I burst into tears and start crying. My sister demands to see the manager, and the waiter puts up his hands.

Waiter: “Woah! Just a joke!”

Older Sister: “Manager, now!”

Younger Sister: “Don’t ever say that to a woman!”

The manager comes over and when he hears what happened, he gives us the entire meal for free, and he orders the waiter into his office. Minutes later, the waiter storms out, face red as a tomato, and he comes over to our table. 

Waiter: “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. I shouldn’t have said it. I honestly thought it would be funny.”

I wasn’t overly waiting in line at Tim Horton’s. There wasn’t anyone behind me, so I went up to the glass, where the baked goods were, trying to figure out what I wanted. Then, a woman and her son came in, and they went right in front of me, while the kid was trying to decide what he wanted. Since I’m a good sport (and shy), I didn’t say anything. Though, I was thinking, “Hey, I was here first, lady…”

Then, when it came to the cashier asking who’s next, the woman behind the cutting-in woman (who I afterward discovered was her Mother) said, “(Lady’s name), this lady was in front of you.”

The kid’s Mom replied, “Oh, OK. I was wondering…”

Again, since I’m a good sport, I said, “Oh, no, it’s fine.”

The older lady then told me, “No, go ahead.”

“Oh, OK. Thank you!” I replied, before going to order.

(Just a little fun fact: I’m nineteen, but I look twelve. The fact that I was called a “lady” made me laugh.)

At my last job, I worked in a tea house where the manager was also the owner of the business. Like most businesses, we received our fair share of solicitor calls, but we had an advantage for detecting these calls early. The owner’s husband’s name had been put down on some piece of paperwork when opening the business, so we could always tell when a solicitor was calling because they would ask for her husband’s name.

The owner had no tolerance for solicitor calls, so as soon as someone asked for her husband’s name, we would say, “We don’t accept sales calls,” and hang up on them.

There are a lot of things that I do not miss about that job, but hanging up on solicitors and leaving them to wonder how on earth we figured it out so quickly was one of the perks.

(I work as a hostess in a restaurant that only serves lunch and dinner, so we open at 11:00 AM. I’m finishing up my opening duties when I hear a sudden pounding on the doors outside. There are two women waiting very impatiently to be let in. I look at the time, and it’s 10:45. I’m only allowed to open the doors before 11:00 if there are customers outside. I go to unlock the door.)

Me: “Hi ladies, how are you today?”

Woman #1: “How do you expect to get any business if your doors are locked?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we open at 11:00.”

Woman #1: “Yeah, whatever. We want a booth.”

(I try to make conversation on the way to their table, but they just ignore me and talk to themselves. After they situated themselves in what they deemed to be the most uncomfortable booths in the world, I lay their menus before them.)

Me: “Alright, here are your menus. Your server will be -”

Woman #2: “We’d like two Bloody Mary’s.”

(It happens quite often that a customer will mistake me as a server.)

Me: “Absolutely, I will let your server know -”

Woman #2: “Why can’t​ you get us one? They’re easy to make.”

Me: “I’m not a server or a bar tender. The only thing I could do is run the drink to you when it’s made.”

(Woman #2 huffs and rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath.)

Me: “Your server today will be [Name], she’ll be with you in one -”

Woman #1: “I’m not seeing your breakfast menu.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t serve breakfast here.”

Woman #1: “Yes you do, all restaurants have to.”

Me: “We are strictly a lunch/dinner restaurant. That’s why we open at 11:00 instead of earlier like some places.”

Woman #1: “This is ridiculous! What kind of restaurant doesn’t have breakfast?!”

Me: “Well, the closest items we have to breakfast is our Brunch Burger, it’s got a fried egg, bacon, and hash browns on it. We also have steak and eggs.”

Woman #1: “This is f***ed up, you wanna just leave?”

Woman #2: “No, I want my Bloody Mary. (Turns to me) Be useful for once and get us one, will you?”

Me: (biting my tongue) “No problem, ma’am. You’re server will be [Name], she’ll be right out.”

(I go to tell the server she’s got a table, and that her customers want Bloody Mary’s. The bartender overhears me and starts making the drinks while the server goes to greet the table. The women start up another commotion, almost yelling at the server, who comes back to the bar to grab their drinks.)

Bartender: “What happened?”

Server: “They asked where our breakfast menu is, then bitched at me for us not having one.”

Me: “I already told them we didn’t!”

Server: “I guess they wanted a second opinion?”

Bartender: “Do I need to grab the manager?”

Server: “No, I can handle it.”

(The server takes the drinks up to the table. Woman #2 takes an eager sip, only to pull back and SPIT IT OUT ONTO THE SERVER. She starts screaming, loud enough for the few customers we have to hear that it was the worst drink she’s ever had, before the pair of them storm out. The server comes back to the bar with one untouched drink and the barely sipped one. She’s got tomato juice and alcohol dripping from her face and shirt.)

Server: “So, who wants a free Bloody Mary?”