(We are ordering dinner at a seafood restaurant during our vacation. My nephew is a very picky eater, and for the last six meals has eaten nothing but chicken strips or chicken nuggets and fries. The waiter approaches my nephew.)

Waiter: “And what would you like to eat, young man?”

Nephew: “I’d like chicken strips and fries, please.”

Me: “Hun, you’ve had chicken for every meal for two days.”

Nephew: “I like chicken.”

Me: “But remember: you are what you eat.”

Nephew: “So what am I?”

Me: “A chicken.”

(The other adults laugh and agree.)

Nephew: *after a thoughtful pause* “So, what do I eat if I want to be a human?”

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(It is the Friday before Christmas. Our restaurant has received a large amount of catering orders for office parties. A customer orders 50 breaded wings to be delivered at lunch time. About an hour after the food is sent, the customer calls back.)

Customer: “This is [name], from [company]. I’m calling about our lunch order.”

Me: “Okay, I see here in our system that you received your food about an hour ago. Was there an issue with the food?”

Customer: “Yes there was!”

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that. What exactly was the problem?”

Customer: “THE SAUCE WAS ON THE SIDE!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “The d*** sauce for the wings was on the side, not on the wings! This is disgusting!”

Me: “Well, I’m so sorry that you weren’t satisfied. However, with breaded wings our restaurant always puts the sauce on the side. If we had put the sauce on top of the wings, by the time you received them, the breading would have been soggy and mushy. Unless you had specifically asked for the sauce to be on the wings, we had no way to know that is how you wanted them.”

Customer: “This is a disgrace! I’m so disgusted with you. Your chef needs to be fired immediately! I’m absolutely humiliated in front of my employees. You’ve caused me to lose their respect, and I’m so disgusted that I wasn’t even able to eat my own lunch. This is absolutely absurd. I’ve ordered these wings a hundred times from [other restaurant], and they’ve NEVER done anything so horrible to me!”

(The other restaurant she mentioned is actually our sister restaurant. The names are different, but the same man owns the business, their recipes are identical, and the managers of the two separate restaurants are brothers.)

Me: “Well, I know for a fact that they sell their wings in exactly the same format.”

Customer: “DON’T YOU LIE TO ME YOU B****! I’VE BEEN A CUSTOMER THERE FOR YEARS; THEY DO NOT! [Owner] would never do that to me!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, [owner] is the brother of my boss. The two restaurants are owned by their older brother, and the recipes are identical. In fact, I’m guessing the reason you called us is because you couldn’t get through to that restaurant?”

Customer: “Y-yes, how did you know that?”

Me: “Because they are currently closed for renovation. In fact, [other restaurant’s owner] is standing about ten feet away from me. Would you like me to get him on the phone? I’m sure he’d be more than happy to explain his own standards to you!”

Customer: “I can’t believe you; you’re a lying little b****! Don’t think you’ve heard the last of me!”

(The customer calls back a few hours later. My boss has a nearly identical conversation with her. When he finally hangs up, he tells me we have lost a customer. Somehow, he doesn’t seem terribly broken up.)

Me: “Hi! May I please get the 10 piece chicken tenders meal, with a large drink and a side of gravy to go?”

Cashier: “Sure! Would you like the 10 or the 20 piece?”

Me: “I would like the 10.”

Cashier: “Done! Would you like the meal to go with it? And if so, would you like to upsize it?”

Me: “I asked for a meal with a large drink.”

Cashier: “No problem! Would you like any sides with that?”

Me: “Gravy…”

Cashier: “And is that to stay or to go?”

Me: “I have explained all of this already. It’s to go.”

(Note: there is only one person in the drive thru, and I am the only customer inside ordering. The place is dead, but it still took about 10 minutes for my food to come out. When I check my order, they’ve only given me 8 nuggets, no gravy, and cold fries.)

Me: “Excuse me, but there’s only 8 nuggets. My fries are cold and I asked, and paid for, a side of gravy. Could I please get this fixed?”

Cashier: “Why is everyone so d*** picky?! You’re the seventh person to complain during my shift! And honestly honey, you could honestly survive without the two extra nuggets and gravy. Do you really want to add more blubber to those love handles you have going on there? Come on, get a life and stop pestering me!”

(My order was finally fixed, and I called the manager the next day to complain. He said he’d do something about it, and apologized. I was at the same location today and the same cashier who belittled me had been promoted to supervisor!)

(I am visiting my grandma. Her friends decide to take us out a popular seafood place, and end up with a really cute waiter.)

Waiter: “And what would you like, ma’am?”

Grandma: “Give me the lobster! And make sure it’s super-hot, like you!”

Me: “Grandma!”

Waiter: *blushes* “Y-yes, ma’am.”

(The waiter scurries off, and my grandma’s friends all laugh among themselves.)

Friend #1: “His face was so red! You might get him on the plate instead of the lobster!”

(Later, our waiter brings us our food.)

Waiter: “Ma’am, would you like a bib for your lobster?”

Grandma: “Ooh, yes, please! Apply the protection for me!”

Me: “GRANDMA!”

(All her friends were laughing hysterically. The waiter avoided us for the rest of the night!)

(I am sitting in a restaurant booth, with my two young sons, aged five and eight. A couple of elderly ladies are seated in the next booth, and try joking with my boys.)

Lady #1: “Oh, look! Those are very handsome babies. Hi!”

(They start waving at us.)

Five-Year-Old Son: “Thanks. We’re handsome, but we’re not babies!”

Lady #2: “Oh, this baby is a jokester!”

(The ladies are laughing and amused, and turn to me.)

Lady #1: “Your babies are so adorable.”

Eight-Year-Old Son: “Why do you keep calling us babies? We’re not wearing diapers!”

(The ladies burst out laughing, and I laugh too. My five-year-old son is determined to bring it home.)

Five-Year-Old Son: “Oh, you old women are so gonna wear diapers really soon! Sooner than me!”