(I’m a male having lunch with my best female friend on my birthday. Our waitress comes over to give us the check. Before I can reach for my wallet, my friend has her card in her hand.)

My Friend: “Here you go.”

(My friend tries to give her card to the waitress, but she glares at me instead.)

Waitress: “Seriously dude, you’re gonna make your girlfriend pay for the meal? What kind of man are you?”

Me: “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Waitress: “Not if you make her pay she won’t be.”

My Friend: “Look: it’s his birthday, and it’s my treat. Now if you can run that, we will be on our way.”

Waitress: “I’m not gonna let you pay sweetheart.” *glares at me again* “Where’s your wallet at?”

Me: “I believe my friend made a very clear explanation of the situation. Now if you would just—”

Waitress: “I don’t wanna hear any more excuses! You are the man; you pay for the meal!”

My Friend: “Where’s a manager?”

Waitress: “He’s busy right now!”

(From behind her, a gentleman approaches.)

Gentleman: “Is everything alright?”

Waitress: “Back off! This isn’t your issue.”

Gentleman: “Well, I own this restaurant, so, yes, it is my issue. What’s going on? I heard screaming.”

(I explain the situation to the owner, and he fires the waitress on the spot. As she’s leaving the restaurant, she’s still screaming that I’m not a real man. Our meal was complimentary.)

(It’s 8:30 pm on a very slow Monday night, so my manager has sent everyone home except me and another server. Suddenly, we get slammed. Within 20 minutes I have over 20 tables. While I’m doing my best, about half my tables still need to be greeted, much less have their orders taken.)

Customer: “We need refills. It’s been like twenty minutes since you came over here last. We’re all done with our food and we’ve needed refills this whole time!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; I’ll be back in one second with those refills, okay?”

(I get the tables refilled, despite the fact that I have to ring in four other tables and check out three of them. Because I am so busy, I make a mistake and give him a regular soda like his friends instead of the diet soda he wants. After dropping them off and trying to attend to the outrageous amount of other guests needing me, he begins yelling for me.)

Customer: “HEY! LADY! WE NEED YOU OVER HERE NOW!”

(I look sympathetically at the couple I am currently taking the order for.)

Me: “I am so sorry about this; I will be right back.”

Couple: “Oh, don’t worry about it; we do understand. It’s crazy in here!”

(I hastily run to the shouting customer. He shoves the cup against my chest, sloshing soda on me and the floor.)

Customer: “Can I get a DIET soda this time? DIET? DI-ET, as in NOT REGULAR?”

(The shouting customer’s wife has been looking embarrassed during the whole exchange. She suddenly pipes up.)

Customer’s Wife: “SIT. DOWN!”

(The customer sits immediately, fuming. I refill his diet soda quickly, trying to ignore the cold soda all over me.)

Me: “Here you go, sir; I’m very sorry about that.”

Customer’s Wife: “Thank you so much dear. Whenever you get a chance, we’d like the bill. Take your time.”

(Trying not to cry, I take care of some other customers, including the poor couple I had to run away from, and then print their bill out. The husband does not look at me or talk to me again the rest of the time.)

Customer’s Wife: “You were an amazing waitress, honey. Thank you.”

(The wife left me a 30% tip, and the other couple dropped a $20 bill for my tip on top of their small, $20 tag.)

(I work at a late-night restaurant that caters to the people who come for food when the surrounding bars close for the night. A customer comes in who has drunk a little too much.)

Customer: “Do you accept credit cards?”

Me: “Yes, we do.”

(I swipe the credit card, and it is approved.)

Me: “Now, if you could just sign here, you’re all set.”

Customer: “What am I supposed to sign?”

Me: “The cardholder’s name.”

Customer: “Okay, thanks.”

(She then proceeds to draw a picture of a naked lady—complete with large boobs—where her signature should be.)

Me: “Uh” ma’am, I don’t think this is a valid signature.”

Customer: “Just try it; it’ll work!”

(I put it through, and the machine accepts the signature!)

Me: “Wow, I guess you’re right!”

Customer: “I need to stop drinking so much!”

(She leaves me a $15 tip on a $25 bill! That is why I love working the late-night shift!)

(My boyfriend and I are regulars at this italian restaurant. One evening, we’re served by a new waitress.)

Waitress: “Hi there! Can I take your order?” *winks at my boyfriend*

My Boyfriend: “Yes, I would like to have the steak with mushrooms, and can you please leave out the cucumber salad?”

Waitress: “Sure! Anything else, sir?”

My Boyfriend: “Yes, she would like… eh, honey, what did you want again?”

Me: “I’ll have the fillet of beef, and—”

(The waitress writes my order down in a hurry, not even paying attention to me, and is about to leave while I still am ordering.)

Me: “—and make the meat well-done, please.”

(She mumbles something, and leaves, giving my boyfriend another seductive wink. When we get our food, my meat is barely medium rare, but I decide to let it slide. She comes back at least every five minutes to see if we need anything, still ignoring me and only looking at my boyfriend, and only refills his drinks. When the bill comes up, my boyfriend speaks up.)

My Boyfriend: “Please pass my compliments to the chef; my food was delicious! My girlfriend’s food, however, was not the way she told you to make it, because you ignored her the whole evening. And, as you can clearly see, I’m taken, so I’d be happy if you never serve us again.”

(She gives me a look as if all the troubles in the world were my fault, and leaves in a huff. Fortunately, we never saw her there again.)

(My boyfriend and I are trying a new restaurant close by us. A lot of the popular local restaurants have buckets of peanuts still in the shells on the table, and it’s tradition to throw the shells on the floor. We are both artistic, and the only customers in the place this late at night.)

Me: “I never thought this place would be so dead.”

Boyfriend: “I know, I’ve heard so much about it. I thought it would be full.”

(I start tearing shells apart, and placing them in a pattern on the table. My boyfriend starts adding to it.)

Waitress: “Everything goi—whoa! Wait, wait! Can I take a picture? My daughter will love this!”

Me: “Of course!”

(The waitress takes out her phone, and snaps a picture. The peanut shells are in the shape of a sunflower.)

Waitress: “She loves sunflowers! That’s the best thing I’ve seen these shells used for!”

(My boyfriend and I smile at each other when the waitress walks away.)

Boyfriend: “Should we?”

(We continue adding more to the flower until it takes up almost the whole table. The waitress comes back.)

Waitress: “Oh, my God! Now I need another! This is great! You two made my night!”

(The waitress ends up talking to us all night. She makes the closing employees leave the shells on our table for the opening staff to see. My boyfriend and I are beaming for the rest of our anniversary.)