A couple of my friends and I are grabbing food at a sub shop. There appears to be only one employee in sight.

Employee: “What do you want?”

Friend: “Can I have [order] with the Italian bread?”

Employee: “We’re out of Italian bread.”

Friend: “Well, can I have the herb one, then?”

Employee: “We’re out of that, too.”

Friend: “What bread do you have?”

Employee: “We have [bread #1] and [bread #2].”

The employee opens the bread bin behind him and shows us that there are exactly three loaves of bread left. This would be great because there are exactly three of us, but I’m a little nervous because I’m a picky eater and haven’t tried these before.

We grumble a little, but we order with the weird bread and move on. A second employee arrives to put our orders through the till. As we are paying, some more customers come in who we recognise.

Friend: “They’re out of bread.”

New Arrival: “Wait, what?”

Friend: “Yeah, we just got the last ones.”

Employee: “No, no, don’t worry about that.”

And then, the employee went out of sight behind the bread bin and returned with a full tray of the Italian bread. We were fuming but could not find the words to speak. When one of the new customers requested a different bread, he went and got it.

My friends and I had already paid for our food, which we technically did order, so we thought we had no leg to stand on and just left. Luckily, the replacement bread was edible, if not all that nice.

Unfortunately, I did not complain. I was young and raised under a rock and did not know that was a thing I could do. It’s a little late to go back now.

My daughter goes into a national sub shop chain to order subs for us. My order contains pickles. The young man making the subs looks at the condiments.

Employee #1: “We’re out of pickles.”

Employee #2: “We just got more; they are in the back.” 

Employee #1: *Repeating* “We’re out of pickles.”

Employee #2: “We just got more; they are in the back.” 

This happens two more times until [Employee #2] turns to my daughter.

Employee #2: “Would you mind waiting a minute while I get the pickles from the back?”

Daughter: “I don’t mind.”

Employee #1: “Oh, we have more in the back?” 

[Employee #2] turns to him and points to [Employee #3].

Employee #2: “Remember, he just came back from the store where he got pickles?“

My daughter comes back to the car.

Daughter: “I am pretty sure that guy is stoned out of his mind.”

The sub was delicious.

I work at a local sub shop in my town. We have single-stall bathrooms — the kind where you walk in and the toilet and sink are next to each other and you have to lock the door behind yourself. We have baby changing tables in both the women’s and men’s bathrooms because single fathers exist.

A customer orders his sandwich and heads into the bathroom. A moment later, he storms out of the bathroom and snaps his fingers at me.

Customer: “Hey, kid!”

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “Why is there one of them women’s things in the men’s bathroom?”

I have no clue what he’s talking about.

Me: “Pardon me?”

Customer: “One of them girly tables for the babies — you have one in the man bathroom!”

Me: “Oh, the changing table? Yes, sir, we have one in both bathrooms.”

He huffs and puts his hands on his hips in an exaggerated fashion.

Customer: “Well, why is that?”

Me: “So that men can change their babies’ diapers if they need to.”

Customer: “That’s the wife’s job. Why are you promoting men to be like women?!”

Me: “Sometimes single fathers come in, or it’ll just be a dad and his kids. It’s just there for convenience.”

Customer: “It makes me feel like a woman. I don’t need it in the men’s bathroom.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Honestly, I am past the point of caring and am just trying to appease him so he’ll leave me alone.

Customer: “Well, I don’t need to use it!”

Me: “Sir, you’re not obligated to use the baby changing table.”

He just stares at me with his mouth hanging open before shaking his head, sighing, and saying to himself:

Customer: “I can’t believe these d*** kids.”

I visit my local sub shop for lunch and look over the bread options.

Me: “I’d like a footlong BMT, but can you tell me the difference between the white and wheat breads?”

Cashier: “That one is made from wheat.”

Me: “I know, but how is it different from the white bread?”

Cashier: “This one is white, and that one is made from wheat.”

Me: “All your bread is… I’ll have a footlong BMT on herb-cheese bread, please.”

One afternoon while working as a teller at the bank, I call up a nicely-dressed man who hands me a check to cash along with an out-of-state license. While helping him, I do the whole mandatory chatting thing.

Me: “I hope you’re enjoying your visit to [Town]. What brings you here?”

Customer: “I’m the district manager for [Sub Shop Chain]. I’m spending a few days visiting the local franchises in the area. Surprise inspections.”

Me: *With a happy squeal* “Oh, I love [Sub Shop Chain] subs! They’re the best! I probably order there at least once a week.”

Customer: “I’m glad to hear from a satisfied customer. Do you have any feedback on your local store you’d like to share with me?”

Me: “I really do love the subs, and the delivery is freaky fast. The only problem I run into is that when I order delivery they put mayo on my sub about half the time, and then I have to drive over to the store to get my sub remade. Mind you, they always replace it with a smile; I just wish they’d stop putting mayo on it, to begin with. Yuck. I can’t specify ‘no mayo’ because the Italian sub doesn’t even come with mayo. It comes with vinaigrette. So, it would be nice if there was a ‘no mayo’ option even if the sub isn’t supposed to come with mayo. Or maybe a comment box to make specifications about your order. I’ve tried to put it in the delivery instruction box, but that doesn’t help.”

Customer: *With a disgusted face* “Mayo and vinaigrette on the same sandwich? That sounds awful! I’ll look into that.”

After work that night, I decide that subs for dinner sound delicious, so I place a delivery order for the family. Fifteen minutes later, I’m unwrapping my sub to check for the devil’s condiment. Sure enough, there’s mayonnaise on my Italian sub. Ugh.

My family knows the deal by this point, so they don’t say anything as I rewrap the sandwich and set off to return it to the store. I’m just getting out of my car in the parking lot when I notice the man getting out of the car parked two spaces away from me. It’s the district manager I chatted with earlier in the day, arriving for a surprise inspection of the store.

Customer: “Mayo on the Italian?”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer: “Unbelievable! Come with me.”

He walked me into the shop, called all of the workers into a huddle, and gave them an earful about following the listed ingredients for the subs to increase customer satisfaction and avoid food waste. I heard one of the workers interject that “a sandwich is DRY without mayo!” but he was quickly chided by the district manager that there was a specific ingredient list for each sub, and it needed to be followed regardless of his opinions on the matter.

My sub was quickly remade by an unsmiling employee, and the district manager handed me several coupons for free subs while apologizing for my inconvenience.

It’s been a few weeks, but I’m afraid to use those coupons now. I might get an Italian without mayo, but there might be some other unsavory additions after the district manager chewed them out because of me!