(My husband calls a diner ahead for two Philly sandwiches. When we pull up, we see the waitress and the cook waiting outside while one person is eating at the counter.)

Cook: “Are you [last name]?”

Husband: “Yes?”

Cook: “I’m sorry, but there’s been… an issue with your order.”

Husband: “What’s going on?”

Cook: “We’re waiting for the cops. You see, I was in the middle of making your order. That gentleman in there came in, grabbed your food off the grill, and sat down to eat. We think he might be armed. We’ve locked him inside, and we’re waiting for the cops.”

(My husband is speechless.)

Cook: “I’ll also have to remake your order if you still want it.”

Husband: “It’s okay. We’ll wait.”

(We are there for over an hour. The cops show up rather shortly. They arrest the man, and take all available evidence. The cook and waitress have to clean everything before they can make my husband’s order. We are given half off for our wait!)

(Everyone in the kitchen wears headsets to hear the drive-thru. This is so we can make the order while the customer is ordering.)

Me: “Hey, how are you today?”

Customer: “Just a sec… s***!”

Me: *deadpan* “I’m sorry, sir; we don’t serve that here.”

(The entire kitchen erupts in laughter.)

Customer: *also laughing* “If I wanted that, I’d go to [competitor]!”

(My friend and I are customers at a new cafe; we overhear this conversation.)

Manager: “[Employee’s name], we need to have a talk.”

Employee: “Yeah, what’s up?”

Manager: “I overheard you make a homosexual slur towards a customer not long ago. I also have a write up from the assistant manager that you called her a ‘f**’ because she mentioned her girlfriend.”

Employee: “Yeah, just letting those f*****s know I don’t agree with their s***.”

Manager: “Well, I don’t agree with your ‘s***’. In fact, I have no tolerance for it. Congratulations: you are the first employee I’ve ever fired within their first week of work. Go home.”

Employee: *storms out*

(My husband and I are grabbing a quick lunch at a local cafe. I unwrap my sandwich and find a bunch of long, black hairs sticking out. I go and see about getting a new sandwich made.)

Cashier: “Welcome to [cafe name]. What can I get you?”

Me: “Actually, I just ordered a sandwich less than five minutes ago and I found a bunch of hairs in my sandwich.”

(I show the cashier the sandwich, hair and all.)

Cashier: “Ma’am, it’s only your hair. The sandwich is still good; just take them off and you’ll be fine.”

Me: “Um… no. First off, the hair on the sandwich is not mine. If you look, you’ll see that my hair is neither long or black. Secondly, I am not fine with it. I find it rather nasty that someone else’s hair is on my food, so I would appreciate it if you would remake it. If that is going to be too much trouble, then I just want a refund for the sandwich.”

Cashier: “Lady, chill out. It’s only hair. You’re acting as if it is contaminated or something. I promise you that we’re all clean here, so there aren’t any germs on your sandwich.”

(At this point, I’m seriously pissed off and about to demand a manager when one comes up and taps the cashier on the shoulder.)

Manager: *to cashier* “Seriously?! My office, right now. Not at the end of your shift, not in ten minutes… now. Get up there and wait for me.” *to me* “Ma’am, I am so sorry about that. Of course we’ll remake that for you. What did you have again?”

(The manager personally remade my food and I walked away with a free, freshly-baked cookie as well.)

(At my restaurant, they’ve recently hired a shift manager and are training her. However, she constantly helps guests at the register without permission, and always makes mistakes because she hasn’t been trained on it yet.)

General Manager: “You know you’re not supposed to be working the register yet.”

Manager-in-Training: “I already have experience, so it doesn’t matter. I know how to use it.”

General Manager: “You’re supposed to be training on expo today. Then you can move on to register.”

Manager-in-Training: “How am I supposed to learn anything when you constantly have me doing dishes and serving?! Whatever! I’m going on my break now!”

General Manager: “It’s not your turn for a break yet.”

Manager-in-Training: “Yes it is! I am working a four hour shift today and it is the law that you give me my break!”

General Manager: “Fine. If you would like a break, why don’t you go sit down and do your training paperwork?”

(Instead of doing her paperwork, she sends an email to the regional manager complaining. Apparently, the regional manager wasn’t too pleased: a week later, my coworkers and I noticed she wasn’t on the schedule anymore.)