(I work the early morning shift at a 24-hour fast food restaurant as an opener doing all the prep for the day. Because we are 24-hours, we still take and prepare orders while we prep and are constantly looking up to the front counter to check for customers, even if the cashier is in the back doing prep at four am. We have a regular who always comes in during this time daily, knowing that we are all in the back. He isn’t liked much because of his consistent bad attitude, general rudeness, and fit-throwing, but we still give him top-of-the-line service and are kind to him. He never lets us know when he is there and hides from view while he “waits.” One day he comes in earlier than usual and stands to the side of the registers where no one can see him, a usual habit of his. We see no one up front and keep prepping. The customer waits an undetermined amount of time, makes no attempt to let us know he is there or make himself seen, and leaves. Two hours later, the regular comes back in, approaches the employee behind the register, and orders his usual breakfast item.)

Employee: “I’m sorry, but we’re actually out of the sausage patties today. We thought we were going to get more on truck, but we didn’t. Do you want to get it with ham or bacon, inste—”

Regular Customer: *throws hands in the air angrily* “WHAT? I was in here two hours ago, waiting for over twenty minutes for my order to be taken, and now you tell me you’re out of sausage!”

Employee: “I’m sorry. We didn’t know you were here. You should try to let us know—”

Regular Customer: “Ugh!” *throws hands in the air again and storms out*

(The next day he apologized to another employee who wasn’t even there during his outburst, ignored the employee he WAS rude to, and then said that that morning he also came in and was stuck waiting twenty minutes to order while we prepped just like the day of the outburst. Today the employee he snapped at was outside on break and watched him walk in and then back out two seconds later. We’re still waiting to hear about his twenty-minute wait he “suffered” through today.)

(I work as a cashier at a local barbecue chain, usually taking people’s orders.)

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Hi, this is going to sound crazy, but…”

Me: “No, go right ahead.”

Customer: “Can I get two large containers of your ranch dressing? Is that possible?”

Me: *stares blankly for a few seconds* “I, uh… I don’t think that’s possible.”

Customer: “Are you sure? Maybe you could ring it up as a large side or something?”

Me: “Ma’am, I really think you’d be better off going to a grocery store for this.”

Customer: “Well, it’s for a friend, and she really likes the specific type of ranch you guys have here.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can do that. I—”

Customer: “Maybe I can go to the kitchen and ask them?”

(Our pick-up area is right next to the kitchen, so it’s really easy for customers and staff to talk to the cooks. I’ve sent requests to them directly on more than one occasion.)

Me: “That’s probably your best bet, ma’am. Have a great day!”

(I saw her fifteen minutes later leaving the store, happy as a clam, carrying a bag I assume was filled with the ranch. Guess she got her wish!)

(We have gone to a rather upscale local area to play Pokémon Go, and stopped into a restaurant to grab some dinner. The meal is fantastic, and because our friends’ drink takes a long time to show up, the waiter is kind enough to take it off the bill. We leave a generous tip because of how well he has taken care of us, despite problems with it being packed. I head into the bathroom before we leave.)

Me: *smiles and gives a polite hello to a waiter who is prepping silverware next to the bathroom*

Waiter #1: “Have a great evening!” *continues to wrap napkins around silverware carefully*

(I step into the bathroom and I am horrified by the sight inside. Despite there being two stalls, the bathroom is a complete mess. Wads and long pieces of toilet paper are strewn all over the floor, paper towels have been scattered everywhere, and the first stall has no toilet paper on the roll at all. I tiptoe around it all and check the second stall, and immediately leave the bathroom when I see that someone has peed on the floor in front of the toilet and left a sizable puddle that covers most of the stall floor. I am basically gagging as I stare in horror at the bathroom door, backing away quickly.)

Waiter #2: *leaving the men’s bathroom and noticing my shocked and disgusted look* “Is everything all right?”

Me: *moving further away* “The bathroom is a total mess! Someone even peed all over the floor in front of the toilet! It looks like they tried to hover without touching the seat and failed miserably.”

Waiter #1: *stops wrapping silverware, looking horrified* “I’d go clean it immediately, but… I can’t. For obvious reasons.”

Waiter #2: *looking disgusted, as well* “Same here. We have to wait until we can get a female coworker to do it, because male staff isn’t allowed in. I’m terribly sorry!”

(Both begin to fidget as if they are expecting something bad to happen.)

Me: “That’s fine. I understand you don’t want to get slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit because someone wants to be dumb about you cleaning a bathroom. I’ll just wait for my boyfriend to come out and find somewhere else to go. It’s not your fault.”

(They both stop fidgeting and stare at me.)

Waiter #1: “So… you aren’t going to scream at us?”

Me: “Why would I? You didn’t go in there and pee all over the floor!”

(They both look very relieved and smile.)

Waiter #2: “Thank you! I honestly thought you would start screaming at us. We get screamed at a lot for things we have no control of!”

Me: *shaking my head* “No way! I wouldn’t do that. I just wish that women wouldn’t be so gross, and just sit on the d*** toilet seat instead of peeing on the seat and floor because the seat might have germs. It makes it grosser for everyone else!”

(My boyfriend came out and we left. The waiters seemed very happy, and one ran off to go find someone to clean the bathroom. I pity the person who got stuck having to clean that bathroom!)

(I work at my mother’s cafe in an airport, where we make all of our food fresh. To give an example of this situation that happens at least once a day, I will use the customer that just came to our counter. He is booked for the 2:00 flight, which usually opens the security checkpoint at 1:15. He has stepped into the cafe at 12:15. He grabs a juice out of the cooler and comes up to the counter with it.)

Me: “Hello. Will that be all, sir?”

Customer: “Ah, yeah. I’ve got two hours before my flight, so I might get something to eat later.”

Me: *knows where this is going* “All right, that’ll be [price].”

(The customer pays and takes a seat at one of our tables. An hour passes until the airport speaker comes on.)

Speaker: “For those passengers who have checked in and received a boarding pass for [flight], the security checkpoint is now open, and we ask that you please process through security in preparation for boarding.”

Customer: *comes up to the counter* “I’ll have a bacon double cheeseburger, with onion rings and a large [soda], and please make it quick because we’re about to board.”

(My husband swears like a truck-driving sailor. This has never bothered me, but since the birth of our daughter he’s tried to watch his language around her, especially now that our daughter is two and likes to repeat anything she finds especially funny. One day my husband accidentally stubs his toe against the wall and starts to yell, “MOTHER…” Seeing our daughter staring up at him he ends with, “…Hubbard!” The next day we are out to lunch with my rather conservative parents. Our daughter is in a high chair and accidentally drops her sippy cup on the floor.)

Daughter: *screams as loud as she can* “MOTHER HUBBARD!”

(The few other people in the restaurant turn to stare at us.)

Mother: “[Husband]!”

Husband: “What?”

Mother: “You know what!”

Husband: *meekly* “Well, she wasn’t swearing… Do I get points for that at least?”

(For the next two weeks we had to endure our daughter shouting, “Mother Hubbard!” whenever anything happened she didn’t like. My husband still maintains he should get credit for teaching her an “acceptable substitute.”)