Halloween night and we’re decently busy (even though we can only do patio seating and take-out). It’s me and one other server on the patio; customers are in a good mood and tipping well.

I’ve been flipping tables like crazy all night. There’s a line up, and I’m here to make money.

We’re getting near the end of the night, and I’ve noticed that the other server has been progressively slowing down to basically a stop. I know EXACTLY what she’s doing, she’s trying to prevent new customers from being sat in her section (she’s the type to always try to cut out early, and barely help with closing duties, etc).

Well, wouldn’t you know it, but a few last-minute customers come in right before last call. My section is full, so she has to take them.

Fifteen minutes after closing time, and all my tables are paid and out the door, meanwhile, the two late tables have only just gotten their food.

The other server had to stay super late, and because she had essentially stopped flipping tables earlier, she ended up with pretty crap money.

I’m serving at a busy Chinese restaurant in London, England. I was born in Sydney, but my parents are from Guangzhou, but my accent’s more Bondi than Beijing.

A middle-aged couple sits down at my table.

Customer #1: “Your English is so good!”

Me: *Smiling.* “Thanks. I’m from Australia.”

Customer #2: “Wait… Australia? But this is a Chinese restaurant.”

Me: “Right you are.”

Customer #1: “So… you’re Chinese but you’re from Australia?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer #2: “Wow! That’s amazing. Do you… also speak German?”

Me: “Uh, no, sorry. I only speak English and Cantonese.”

Customer #1: “Oh, I just thought since you’re from, you know, over there, you might.”

Me: “Australia?”

Customer #1: “Yeah! Germany’s near there, right?”

Me: “Sir, are you thinking of Austria?”

Customer #1: “Isn’t that what you said?”

Me: “I said Australia.”

Customer #1: “Look, man, I’m from the States. Everything north is Canada, everything south is Mexico, everything east is ‘The West’, and everything west is ‘The East.’ You should be lucky I knew Austria was closer to Germany than… than the other one.”

Me: “Australia?”

Customer #1: “Yeah, that one!”

Me: “Well, in that case, welcome to ‘The West’. Can I recommend some of the best food from ‘The East’ for you?”

They were great customers, and like most Americans, they tipped well (not very common in the UK), although to this day I couldn’t tell if he was pulling my leg or not…

I work at a place that closes at 9 PM on weekdays. We do last call roughly ten minutes before close, and stop seating about the same time. I do the paperwork at the end of the night, but I can’t do it until every check is closed out, so I am very invested in making sure the last call happens and we stop seating. 

It is 8:55 PM, and most of the servers have started side work, with one left on the floor. One server is still putting in some last-minute orders, which I only mention because the kitchen hasn’t begun to pack up yet.

I’m standing at the host stand when a woman storms in, wearing a business suit. The only way to describe her energy is ‘mid-tantrum.’

Customer: “Ugh, I didn’t realize everything here closes at nine! I’m sooooo hungry!”

I know we could have sat down and gotten her order in quickly, but I also know we are two minutes away from being able to pack up the kitchen, and that no one in the building wants to deal with her.

Me: “I’m sorry, the kitchen is already closed.”

Customer: “Pleeeeeaaaaasssssseeee? I’m so hungry, I didn’t realize everything closed.”

Me: “The Cheesecake Factory is next door; they’re open for another hour.”

This woman literally stamps her foot a few times and wails.

Customer: “Ugh, they’re the only ones?!”

She then storms out the door. Any twinge of guilt I had at not seating her vanished the moment I realized she was just another elitist a**hole who was too good for avocado egg rolls, no matter how hungry she was.

I’m working as a sous chef. I work in one of those restaurants where the kitchen is open to the diners. I overhear a group of four guys ordering.

Customer: “I want a bone-in prime rib.”

Server: “We don’t have that on the menu.”

Customer: “Then I wanna see the chef!”

The jerk is asking this on a Friday night at 7:30 PM, which is peak business for us. I go over anyway, since I’m standing the closest.

Customer: “This place advertises as a scratch kitchen!”

Me: “It does.”

Customer: “That means you can make me anything!”

Me: “No, scratch means it’s all made here today for you. There’s not a warehouse out back for us to shop in.”

Customer: “You’re being very unaccommodating! I am a chef and own a restaurant, and we would do this for our customers!”

Me: “Why aren’t you there, then?”

Unable to fashion a proper response, this jerk stands up and starts leaving. His dining companions look uneasy but follow him after a few moments. We’re fully booked, and reservations for a Friday night for a table for four must have been booked over a month ago. Hope they’re happy dying on that hill.

It was my first week at a chain restaurant when a very attractive woman, out drinking with her group of friends, smiled as she handed me back the check with her phone number written at the top!

I was completely caught off guard. We’d talked a little during their visit, but I hadn’t felt that we’d made a ‘connection’ at all.

I was standing by one of the POS machines in back, looking at her number and thinking about what to do next, when a coworker walked up to me, saw me holding the receipt with her phone number, and asked:

Coworker: “Hey, do you need me to show you how to enter her member rewards points?”

Oh.

Yeah, I’d thought she was giving me her phone number for me to call her sometime… but she just wanted credit on her frequent customer account for the money they were spending that night.