I work at a minor league baseball stadium. We have a picnic terrace used for gatherings, and we offer a buffet, as well. We don’t allow outside food or drinks, but customers sometimes sneak in small stuff from home.

Customer: *Holding a watermelon* “Can you cut this up for me?”

Coworker: *Visibly confused* “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” 

Customer: “I already have a knife. Can you cut up my watermelon?”

She is gesturing to her husband with a twelve-inch kitchen knife wrapped in cloth.

Coworker: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not allowed to.”

Customer: “Why not?”

She is getting annoyed and frustrated at being told “no” once.

Customer’s Husband: “Hey, we can just cut it at the table.”

He tries leading her away.

Me: “Did that really just happen?”

Coworker: “How the h*** did she sneak in a watermelon?”

Me: “How the h*** did they sneak in a kitchen knife?!”

We did let the nearest officer know. The knife was taken without much hassle. The woman claimed she didn’t know she couldn’t bring a knife, and the watermelon was taken but returned after the game.

Related:
They’re Not Cut From The Same Watermelon

I work for a major sports team at their stadium. A common request from diehard fans is to have their ashes scattered on the playing field after they pass. The team’s policy is to deny such requests.

One day, a small plane flies over the stadium and a container is seen falling from the plane onto the roof and bouncing off. The plane is from a company that contracts with families to scatter cremains at about 1,500 feet in the air, usually over the water or up in the mountains. In this case, the drop mechanism malfunctioned, and rather than scattering the cremains into the air, the whole container dropped off the plane.

Since everybody is very jumpy about potential terrorism, someone calls 911 and the fire department calls for a complete hazmat response: suspicious white powder dropped from a low-flying plane.

The stadium is completely evacuated and the streets around the stadium are blocked off for several hours, all because of some ashes!

I’m at my local roller derby game, and I decide that a beverage is just right for the occasion.

A local brewery is supplying the beers, and the bar is run by skaters from the league.

I buy two beers, and the total comes to something like $18. I hand the lady a $20 and three dollars in change. She looks at me weirdly and says, “It’s only $18.”

I reply, “It’s so you can give me a $5 note instead of coins.”  

“Oh! That’s clever. Did you work it out when you were queueing up?”

I just let it slide, thank the lovely lady, and leave with my cans.

I worked in concessions at a stadium for a professional sports team a few years ago. It is raining and a ton of people are loitering in front of my stand for cover. I’ve just returned from getting stock from another location and am drenched from head to foot. I notice a man, probably mid-30s, is sitting on the counter, blocking the register to the point that another guest is actually leaning around him to place her order.

Me: Sir, you can’t sit on the counter. Please get down.

Him: Are you joking? You must not realize that it is raining.

Me: (looking down at the puddle at my feet) Sir, I can assure you, I realize it is raining. You still cannot sit on the counter. Please, again, get down. We serve food here. And you are blocking the register.

Him: Fine. (He scoots over, out of the way of the register but does not get off the counter.)

Me: Sir, this is the last time I’m going to tell you. Get off the counter please.

Him: What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s raining! I’m not fucking bothering anyone.

Me: Have it your way sir. (I get on the radio.) Attention management, I need a manager and a uniform at [concession stand] as soon as possible please.

Him: What the fuck? Why are you calling the police on me? I’m not doing anything wrong you fucking bitch. You can’t tell me what to do.

Radio: Copy, this is [officer]. I’ve got this under control.

An older man steps around the corner. He is one of our undercover police officers. He blended in so well with the crowd that I didn’t even notice him when I returned a few minutes before.

Officer: Actually sir, you’re very wrong. You’re cussing this woman when she is just doing her job and believe me, she is definitely correct in telling you to get off the counter. It isn’t just that no one wants to buy food after your soggy ass is sitting on the service counter. It’s also a violation of Health & Safety standards.

Man: Fuck you old man. Mind your business.

Officer: (flashes his badge) This place is my business. Let’s take a walk.

A minute later, I hear another call over the radio.

Radio: This is [officer]. Cancel the call for management and a uniform to [concession stand]. The guest has seen the error of his ways and has decided to graciously apologize.

Sure enough, the man returned to the stand- drenched by the rain- and apologized. The defeated look on his face was priceless. I never saw him again.

I’m at a hockey game waiting in line for a drink. A few people ahead of me in the next line over there were this mother and son. It was clear the boy had some sort of mental handicap. 

As this guy who had just bought drinks and food was walking away from the counter, the boy accidentally ran into him and knocked everything out of the guy’s arms. But, even after seeing that this boy clearly had a handicap, and after his mother apologized several times and offered to pay for all of his food and drinks, instead of exercising a little patience or showing a little human decency, this guy said:

“Are you f****** kidding me?! He shouldn’t be allowed out in public! What kind of person brings someone like him out around other people? From now on, try keeping your d*** [ableist slur] on a leash!”

Just as a couple of people in line started to move forward and shut this jerk up, an older woman — maybe in her mid-60s — walked up to him and just slapped him right across the face! 

She said, “You are the only disgrace that I see! How dare you speak to another person like that?! Who on Earth raised you? If I were your mother, I would be embarrassed, and you should feel so ashamed.” 

And then, to top it all off… another gentleman in line paid for this mother and her son’s food and the jerk stormed off, empty-handed and pouting. 

God, I love Bostonians.