(We are seated at our table promptly. The table is clean, yet missing place settings. I turn to the waiter, as he is filling our glasses, and request more ‘cutlery.’ A few minutes later he came out of the kitchen with a (very sharp) paring knife.)

Waiter: *laying the knife in front of me* “Can you all share the knife? We only have this one.”

Me: “No, I wanted place settings. You know, dinner knives and forks.”

(After turning red, he grabs the knife and flees to the kitchen, apologizing.)

Me: *to my dinner group* “I’m never using the word ‘cutlery’ again.”

(Later, another of the kitchen staff come out and handed out butter knives to everyone. The rest of the meal was a laughable mess.)

(My family is having dinner at a restaurant for Mother’s Day. I’m sitting with my brother and sister opposite our grandpa.)

Grandpa: *pouring beer* “Oops, too much head.”

Brother: “Are you practicing your beer-pouring skills so you can be a barman?”

Grandpa: “No, I don’t think I’ll be able to work a bar with this dismal effort.”

Me: *muttering* “It’s got more head than a high school football player.”

Brother & Sister: *laughing so hard they’re crying*

(My stepdad was laughing too hard to tell us off.)

(I work in a cafe that also serves gelato. We also make ice cream cakes which are entirely made of ice cream. We just put layers of different flavors in a pan, freeze it and unmold it. To prevent any sort of misunderstanding, we also put a big sticker on each box saying ‘keep frozen.’ Even then, the concept seems to be hard to get for some customers. A customer that bought a cake four hours ago rushes into the shop looking really angry.)

Customer: “I want to have a refund! The cake you sold me did not work!”

Me: “What do you mean, it did not work?”

Customer: “Your cake melted before I could serve it to my guests! I want a refund!”

Me: “Did you leave the cake on the counter for a little while before serving it to your guests?”

Customer: “Of course not! I’m not an idiot! When I put it out of the fridge it was already melted!”

Me: “Wait… what? You left the cake in the fridge?”

Customer: “Yes, I did!”

Me: “But, sir, it needs to be kept in the freezer. It’s ice cream!”

Customer: “And?”

Me: “Ice cream needs to be kept frozen if you don’t want it to melt!”

Customer: “You really think I am stupid? I know ice cream melt! We are talking about a cake!”

Me: “Yes, a cake made of ice cream.”

Customer: “And?”

Me: “Like ice cream it needs to be kept in a freezer.”

Customer: “But it’s a cake!”

Me: A cake made of ice cream!”

Customer: *pause*

Me: (pause)

Customer: “But it’s a cake!”

(Six weeks ago, I booked a Saturday off for a meeting with one of my school clubs. Our club has intentionally planned this meeting early to ensure that all the members would be able to attend, understanding that most people would need to ask work for the day off. Four days before the meeting, I have the following conversation with my manager.)

Manager: “So I had accidentally booked you for that Friday you requested off, but don’t worry! I moved the schedule around so that you have Friday off.”

Me: “Actually, I need Saturday off. I can work any time on Friday.”

Manager: “Oh, well, I thought that it was odd that a meeting would be on Saturday, so I assumed you meant Friday.”

(Awkward silence.)

Me: “Well, it’s on Saturday, just as I wrote it. I’m still going to need Saturday off.”

Manager: “So, where is this meeting? Is it in town? Do you know how long it’ll be? Can you work for just a few hours on Saturday?”

Me: “We haven’t confirmed the details yet, just the date. But I did book it off six weeks ago and you approved it, so it would probably be easier to assume I’m not free the entire day. Sorry.”

Manager: “Well, we’re short-staffed on Saturday and you’re the only person that can work, so you need to come in.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I CAN’T WORK on Saturday. I booked it off, and when you approved it I made a commitment to my club.”

Manager: “But you’re the only person who’s available.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I am not available.”

Manager: “Okay. I’ll just put you down for being on call for Saturday?”

Me: *facepalm*

(A heavily-tattooed bald man walks into the restaurant where I am working. I am at the register. The guy orders his lunch.)

Me: “That’ll be [total].”

Customer: “Good, you didn’t overcharge me. Last week there was some Jewish b**** who got my order wrong. Of course, what do you expect? F****** Jews.”

(I grit my teeth and smile. He hands me some money.)

Me: “Here’s your change and your receipt. Have a good day sir.”

(During the course of this conversation he insulted me, my brother, my mother, my grandfather, my late grandmother, and my best friend from school, all without knowing it. I kind of wish I could have told him, but I doubt my manager would have been happy!)