(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.)

(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.)

(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!”

(I’m 21 years old, but look considerably younger. I have just spent the day with my professor collecting ticks for a research internship, as well as driving quite a bit to find proper fitting gear for the next time we go out.)

Me: “…and I’d like a chocolate pastry.”

Cashier: “Okay! That’s the last one; they’re fantastic!”

(The customer behind me suddenly starts shouting.)

Customer: “NO! I wanted one of those; what makes you so special you get to have one? I’m your elder; you should give it to me!”

Me: “Ma’am, I was here first, and I’ve had a long, stressful day. I would like to get it, as it is the first thing I will have eaten since 7:30 this morning.”

Customer: “What could you have done that was so stressful? You’ve clearly been laying out in the sun; you’re sun burnt for crying out loud! I’ll have you know that I have had an extremely stressful day, and as your elder, I would like this pastry.”

Cashier: “Ma’am, she was here first. Unless she wants to give it to you, I am going to let her have it.”

Customer: “Well, she should give it to me. I mean, how hard is it to lay out in the sun all day?”

Me: “Ma’am, with all due respect, I have been outside working in the field all day, capturing small mammals and collecting deer ticks from them, and releasing them. I have dealt with angry squirrels, as well as a very frightened cardinal. I then had to drive about 300 miles today to find proper fitting gear. While I may look younger, I am 21 years old. I would like that pastry, as it is now 5:00 pm, and I have not eaten anything since this morning, and I need to continue driving home after this. If I may ask, what was so stressful about your day that could possibly compare to that?”

Customer: “I BROKE A NAIL! Do you understand how much that hurts?”

(The customer storms away to get a manager, who, having heard the whole thing, laughs in her face.)