(My dad and I are on our way home from visiting a potential college about eight hours away. We decide to stop at a restaurant on the highway to get food and use the restrooms. When we come out of the restrooms to order our food, there is not an employee in sight.)

Me: “Well this is weird.”

Dad: “Yeah, where’d everyone go?”

(After about a minute, every employee comes out together and somebody takes our order. We walk back to the car with our food.)

Dad: *laughing* “You gotta be f****** s******* me!”

Me: “What?”

Dad: “Did you see that?”

Me: “That they all came out like that? That was weird.”

Dad: “Well yeah, that, but I was looking at the one guy making our fries, and he was going like this…”

(My dad tilts his head back and squints his eyes.)

Dad: “And then I realized they all must have been in the back getting high!”

Me: “Oh, that explains it!”

(My girlfriend and I are at a casino, and decide to get pizza at the restaurant located within the premises. After about 15 minutes of being altogether ignored by the wait-staff, I get up and approach one of the waitresses. She apologizes and tells me she will call the waitress who is supposed to be serving our area. She goes up to a waitress who is standing by the bar chatting with the bartender. The waitress barely glances in our direction before walking lazily towards us with a sullen expression for having interrupted her chat.)

Waitress: “What’ll you have?”

(The waitress speaks without so much as an apology or even a greeting, while chewing gum. I let it slide.)

Me: “Um, yeah, can we get a large meat-lovers pizza with extra cheese, but hold the pork; I cannot eat pork without feeling nauseous.”

(The waitress writes down our order and walks away and proceeds to ignore us once again. After about 20 minutes, I walk up to her.)

Me: “Excuse me, but how long does it usually take to make a pizza?”

Waitress: “Look, sir, it’ll come when it’s ready.”

Me: “Yes well, can you please check for me?”

(Wordlessly, the waitress gets up and goes to the kitchen and comes out almost immediately with our pizza. She plonks it on our table and is about to walk away when I notice that the pizza has pork on it.)

Me: “Hold on, this pizza has pork on it. I specifically ordered it without pork.”

Waitress: “No substitutions, replacements or changes.”

Me: “Well you could have told me this before when I was ordering.”

Waitress: *shrugs shoulders* “Not my problem; it’s [restaurant’s] policy.”

Me: “Look, I can’t eat this. Take it back and just get us a chicken and mushroom pizza.”

(This pizza comes out fairly quickly. However, after looking at it closely, I see that it has obviously been spat on, and been poorly disguised with a piece of chicken on top of it. I call the waitress back and she pretty much stomps over and gives me the glare of death with her hands on her hips.)

Waitress: “What now?”

Me: “Call the manager.”

Waitress: “What for?”

Me: “Just go and call the manager please.”

(She leaves and comes back alone five minutes later.)

Waitress: “He’s not in at the moment.”

Me: “Bull! Are you telling me that a restaurant like this doesn’t have anyone in charge at any given time?”

Waitress: “Well actually I was being nice. He really told me that he was too busy to deal with petty issues and that you must pay up and leave.”

(She then proceeds to total our bill, giving a running commentary all the while.)

Waitress: “So, that’s two wasted pizzas and [drinks].”

(This is the last straw. What with the attitude of the waitress and the useless manager hiding in the office, I take matters into my own hands. I pick up the pizza and proceed to go to each of the tables showing customers the pizza with spit on it. While doing this, out of nowhere, a man runs up and yells at me.)

Man: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Me: “Who are you?”

Man: “I’M THE MANAGER; HOW DARE YOU DO THIS!”

Me: “Oh I’m sorry. I was under the impression that you were very busy. Never mind though, I’m simply showing the other diners the wonderful cuisine served at your restaurant. Well I’m pretty much done here; how much do I owe you?”

Man: “JUST GET OUT!”

(The other diners leave quickly after us, and we never eat at that restaurant again.)

(I am working in the drive-thru window. I am talking to a customer and we both notice a group of four young teens WALKING down the drive-thru lane.)

Customer: *laughs* “Don’t you love how silly kids are? Well, good night!”

(The customer leaves, and the teens approach the drive-thru window.)

Teen: “Yea, hi. I want to order.”

Me: “Yea, sorry. Unfortunately I can’t serve you here unless you are in a car. You are welcome to come inside though.”

Teen: “What are you talking about? We are in a car, see! I’m the driver holding the wheel.” *holds imaginary wheel* “And my passengers!” *points at his three friends*

Me: “Sorry, but unless you can crash your car and dent my wall. I can’t serve you here.”

Teen: “Okay!” *makes screeching noises* “CRASH!”

(I have taken my two young children to a popular family restaurant chain. My eight-year-old daughter is vegetarian. She orders a kids’ meal that comes with either bacon or sausage, and she plans to give the meat to her five-year-old brother, so she asks him what he would prefer.)

Sister: “Hey [brother’s name], bacon or sausage with my [kids’ meal]?”

Brother: “Bacon.”

Server: “Honey, you don’t have to let him order you around and tell you what you should eat just because he is a boy. What do you want to eat?”

Sister: “I am a vegetarian, so I am going to give the bacon to my brother.”

Server: “That’s just awful. You don’t have to give him anything just because he is a boy. You can eat all your meal if you want.”

Me: *losing patience* “Please bring my daughter’s [kid’s meal] with bacon. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Server: *to me* “I can’t believe that in this day and age a mother can be so sexist! How can you allow your son to boss around his older sister? That is just awful.”

Me: “My daughter is a vegetarian. She does not eat meat. She can choose to do whatever she wants with the part of the meal she doesn’t want to eat. Now please go and place our order, and I would like to talk to your manager.”

Server: “Fine.”

(She walks away mumbling.)

Server: “Shameless. Making a girl give up the best part of her food. Just shameless.”

(The manager never shows up, and while we like the restaurant chain, we are not going to that particular location again.)

(I’ve spent the last six years working in various different fast food companies. I’m extremely well known for how happy and polite I am at all times, something that always raises questions with coworkers and customers alike. My coworker is notorious for being miserable and moody to everyone she meets.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, how come you’re so nice to everyone all the time?”

Me: “Ha, you say it like it’s a bad thing!”

Coworker #1: “Oh no! But seriously though; you’re even nice to the bad ones! There’s got to be a reason for it!”

Me: “I don’t know, really. Well, I do remember something that’s always stuck with me. One day, when I was about six years old, I was queuing at a fast food place on my own. I reached the front of the queue and the cashier asked me if she could serve the man behind me. Being a kid and not really understanding, I let her. She then did this a further four times and completely ignored me until my mum noticed and stepped up. The cashier didn’t even apologize. Even though I’m now 22, this occurrence still bugs me to this day, so I guess I vowed to never be like that if I could help it!”

Coworker #1: “I wish I had a tragic fast food back story to make me a better worker too!”

Me: “You don’t need one. It’s not hard to smile at someone!”

Coworker: “Ugh, but I hate it here, and I hate having to serve them!”

Me: “Okay… Just think of it like this: how do you react when someone serves you in a shop and they don’t smile at you or ask you how you are, and continue talking to their coworkers the whole time?”

Coworker #1: “Well, I complain about it of course! People should be happy to serve others and do their job!”

Me: “Exactly. Maybe you should try smiling some time too then maybe customers will stop complaining about you.”