(My boyfriend and I are out celebrating my birthday at an Italian restaurant. I like seafood, but he doesn’t. I order the seafood linguine, and the following exchange occurs as we are eating.)

Me: “Sorry if I have shellfish breath after this.”

Him: “It’d be shellfish of me not to let you enjoy your pasta!”

Me: “Ugh. It was shellfish of you to make that pun.”

Him: “You’re getting a little crabby there.”

Me: “Oh man, I don’t know if I can mussel up a retort to that.”

Him: “I sea that I’ve won this argument, then.”

Me: “Yup. You’ve left me floundering.”

Him: “Ooh. That was o-fish-ally the best pun I’ve ever heard. Does that mean we’re fin-ished with these jokes yet?”

Me: “Yeesh! Just clam up and let me eat.”

Waiter: “Are you ready to order?”

Me: “I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger, but without the onions, please.”

Waiter: “You should eat the onions. They’re a vegetable; they’re good for you.”

Me: “I’m sure they are, but I’m allergic to onions. I would like them taken off, please.”

Waiter: “You shouldn’t be such a picky eater!”

Me: “Again, I’m allergic to them. If I eat them, I will get sick. No onions on the burger.”

Waiter: “You’re not allergic! You just want an excuse to not eat vegetables!”

Me: “I don’t think it’s part of your job to tell me what I do or don’t want to eat. Now, can I get a burger without onions or should I leave?”

Waiter: “Fine, stupid brat! One f***ing bacon cheeseburger with no onions!”

(Before I left, I was able to speak to the manager and tell her that I did not appreciate having the waiter tell me what to eat. She apologized and gave a small discount. Thankfully, I haven’t seen that waiter since.)

Regular: *pulls out two dollars and looks around* “You know, I’ve never seen a tip jar. Where is it?”

Me: “We aren’t supposed to have one. It would be taxed out of our paychecks.”

Regular: “But [coffee shop next door] has one! And what if you guys do a good job and I want to tip you?”

Me: “Then we still aren’t supposed to accept it.”

Regular: “Well, that sucks!” *drops the dollars on the counter* “Oh no! I accidentally dropped my money and now I’m leaving because I totally forgot it bye!” *runs out the door*

(There are three customers outside on the patio: three men, one with long hair. The other two customers are friends and start volleying increasingly homophobic insults at him. I, as the hostess am closest and move to intervene.)

Me: “Gentlemen, please return to your meal. Abuse of the other patrons will not be tolerated and I do not want to have you thrown out.”

Customer #1: “What the h*** are you talking about, are you dumb? That guy’s a f***ing f**. Look at his f***ing hair!”

Me: “You cannot discern another person’s sexuality from a hairstyle, sir, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I already told you that I cannot allow you to insult the other patrons. I do not want to retrieve security.”

Customer #2: “Screw that, b****! We’re not going anywhere. I’m in the middle of eating.”

(Surprisingly, a police man still in uniform walks up to us.)

Customer #1: “Hey, police man! This dumb f***ing c*** wants to throw us out instead of that d*** gay over there. Can you f***ing believe that?”

Policeman: “What I believe is that I should be very grateful to have a wonderful boyfriend who waited for me even though I was late and two idiots were heckling him. I believe that this young lady is quite commendable for standing up to those two idiots. I also believe you two want to pay for you lunches and leave.”

(There’s a bit of a stand off before the two get up and simply leave two twenty dollar bills. I turn to the remaining customer.)

Me: “I’m very, very sorry, sir. I’ll tell your waiter that lunch for you and your partner is free.”

Customer #3: “No need, miss.”

(He pulls a ten dollar bill out of his wallet.)

Customer #3: “Hostesses don’t get tipped, do they?”

Me: “That’s really not necessary, sir. It’s all just part of my job. I was happy to help.”

Policeman: “And for that miss, I think it is necessary.”

(He sits down across from his boyfriend and also hands me a ten. One of the men returned to complain to my manager ten minutes later and was summarily banned from the restaurant when the policeman and his partner explained what happened. I went to their wedding eight months later.)

(My aunt has lost her hair because of chemo treatments. This happens while she, my uncle and my parents are waiting on a table while out to dinner.)

Little Kid: “I hate going to school! I hate the bus! The driver is mean!”

Aunt: “You know, I’m a bus driver. It’s hard having to deal with all those kids.”

Little Kid: “Really?”

Aunt: *whips off her hat* “Look what they did to me!”

Little Kid: *shrieks and runs away*

Aunt: *readjusting her hat* “Totally worth it.”