(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 well known sandwich chain. shopping for my lunch. I have observed one of the staff members who is making sandwiches handle meat, dairy and fish products with the same gloves. As someone who does not eat meat, I find this quite upsetting. He gets ready to serve me.)

Me: “I would like a tuna salad on wholemeal please, but can you change to fresh gloves first please!”

Server: “It is okay, sir, it is all Halal.”

(This cannot be true since several of the meat products are pork based which cannot be Halal. I was going to let the whole thing slide with just a change of gloves but his attitude has upset me further.)

Me: “Actually, pork which you have handled is not Halal, in addition I don’t eat meat so it’s irrelevant if its halal or not. So can you put on fresh gloves?”

Server: “Honestly, I’ve touched everything now so what does it matter?”

(Several other people in the queue have been listening and start to chip in about quality control and food standards. Eventually a manager comes out to see what the fuss is. I eventually explain to him what took place. He apologizes profusely and offers to make my sandwich for free with fresh ingredients.)

(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!)

(I am an independently contracted window artist. On this occasion, I am painting the glass double doors at the entrance of a restaurant. When customers approach the double doors, I usually open one for them, because otherwise, they tend to stand there confusedly, despite the full functionality of the door I’m NOT working on. This time, however, I’m standing on a chair and concentrating hard, so when a middle-aged woman approaches the entrance, I just smile and gesture to the other door. She clears her throat rather loudly and pointedly.)

Me: “You can go ahead through this other door, ma’am.”

(I return to my work. After I moment, I realize she hasn’t moved. I look back and find her GLARING at me.)

Customer: “Well?”

Me: “Ma’am?”

Customer: “Aren’t you going to open this door for me? Are you new or something? Your customers are more important than your silly drawings.”

(I had almost been ready to get down from my chair and open the door for her, but after this, I’m less willing.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not an employee. I just come here to do the art. As I said, you are welcome to go in through this door here.”

Customer: “That’s no excuse! They’re paying you, aren’t they? That makes you an employee!”

Me: “Ma’am, it is not in my job description to open doors for customers, especially when I am standing on a wobbly chair.”

(The woman huffed loudly and yanked open the door I AM WORKING ON, slamming it into my chair and causing me, in my flail for balance, to drag my hand through my fresh paint and ruin my work. I told the manager what happened, and she showed me how to lock the doors individually so I could lock the one I am working on. When the woman approached the door to leave, she deliberately tried to shove my door open again. Instead, she just slammed HERSELF hard against the locked door. She then opened the other door and rushed out without looking at me. It sounded like that door hurt!)

(I am a customer at a restaurant. I am paying with gift cards.)

Server: “And if you choose to tip me using the gift card—”

Me: “Sorry, I only tip with cash.”

Server: *joking* “Oh, darn! And I have to report it for taxes.”

Me: *joking back* “Well, I guess that’s just your problem now, isn’t it?”

(At this point, a nosy old woman at the next table interjects:)

Customer: “That’s terrible! How could you? This young woman needs her tips.”

Server: “It’s all right, ma’am. I actually like cash tips.”

Customer: “It’s not all right. I demand to see your manager now!”

(Despite the server’s attempts to convince the woman that a cash tip is okay, she is forced to call the manager. The poor manager spends several minutes trying to convince the woman that I can, in fact, leave a cash tip, and that the server will like it.)

Customer: *to me as I am leaving* “I hope you’re proud of yourself! If she has trouble on her taxes, it will be all your fault. You are going to Hell!”