(I work in a hotel restaurant. A group of clients have been notoriously difficult, sending back dishes more than once for small details. On a particularly busy night, a waiter walks back into the kitchen and asks about a meal.)

Waiter: “Does this dish contain onions? The client says he’s deadly allergic.”

(Hearing this, the chef panics and asks the waiter to bring him to the client.)

Chef: “Sir, are you all right? Do you have any medicine for your allergy? I’ll call the ambulance right away!”

(The client is confused and worried.)

Client: “What? No, I don’t have medicine. Why?”

Chef: “You told the waiter you were deadly allergic to onions. You should have mentioned it earlier. There were some in the soup.”

Client: “…oh. I just don’t like onions.”

Did you find this story using our Waitstaff roundup?

Click here to get to the next story!

Click here to get back to the roundup!

(I have frequent seizures due to a medical problem that has not been diagnosed yet. I’m due to go to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, Maryland. My boyfriend had a twin sister who had a seizure that caused a heart attack which resulted in her death.)

Boyfriend: “I promise I’ll see you every day and bring you flowers and hold you as long as they let me.”

Me: *not wanting to bring up his sister; as it is a very touchy subject I try to talk around it* “I’ll be in here for two weeks at minimum, [Boyfriend]. That’s at least a four-hour drive here and back.”

Boyfriend: “You mean that much to me. I don’t mind.”

Me: “But—”

Boyfriend: “My sister died from a seizure. I didn’t visit her once because I couldn’t bear to see her like that. She died and I didn’t get to tell her how much I loved her. I’m not losing you too. I’ll be here every day as long as they let me.”

(Twelve years later and he proposed!)

(I am the employee in this story. Our restaurant had just recently switched from a stationary credit/debit machine to a portable machine that you can bring right to the table. I had just finished serving a table of police officers and they are ready to pay.)

Officer: “Is there a cash I need to go to, to pay?”

Me: “Nope. I can do anything you want right at the table.”

(Immediately I can feel my face flush red as I realize what I’ve said.)

Officer: *laughing* “Do you maybe want to rephrase that?”

(My family owns a family Chinese restaurant at which I work. I’m a 15-year-old Asian, but apparently I look 12-ish. This happened when a customer came in during a busy day to eat in. She had just finished eating.)

Me: “How was your meal? Do you need anything else?”

Customer: “Yes. Tell me, kind son. Are you forced to work here?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Are you forced to work here? Like child labor?”

Me: *respectfully I replied* “No, ma’am, I am not forced to work here. I work here because I have family values and I want to help my single mom trying to give the best for her children. I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I am not a slave nor am I forced to work here. I hope you think about what I said and suggest giving me a tip for being so rude.”

(She stood up, paid, and left without a word.)

(I pull in to a local fast food drive-thru.)

Clerk: *through the speaker* “Hello and thanks for choosing [Company]. What will it be today?”

Me: *I’ve already decided, so I give my order with no hesitation* “I’ll have [order] with a [drink].”

Clerk: *playfully with a sassy tone* “All right! A man who knows what he wants.”

(We finish the order process. I pull around and wait my turn, several cars deep, before I finally get to the window.)

Clerk: “Hey! It’s the man who knows what he wants.”

Me: *jokingly* “I’ve changed my mind.”

Clerk: “Noooooooooo….”