(I work in a fast food restaurant. A regular customer comes in and orders a couple of combo meals. I tell her it will take a few minutes because the meat is cooking. I’m taking another customer’s order, and all of a sudden, the regular customer interrupts us.)

Customer: “Other people are getting their orders! Where’s mine?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Our grill is backed up with orders, and the reason other people are getting their orders first is because it’s ice cream. It doesn’t take as long as hot food.”

Customer: *rolls eyes* “Fine.”

(A couple minutes roll by and I hear shouting.)

Customer: “I shouldn’t have to wait ten g**d*** minutes for my food!”

(Then she throws fries — yes, her own precious fries — at my coworker. My baffled coworker tries to pick up the fries, but the woman picks up the fries and throws them again! She then runs to me — while I am taking another order — and shouts.)

Customer: “I’m going to call corporate! I’m serious; I will call them!”

(She left with her food, a bunch of shocked people staring after her. She’s still a regular. And she acts like nothing ever happened.)

(One of our friends is getting married and moving out of state. I’m at home one evening when I receive a call from another friend.)

Friend #1: “Hey, I was calling to let you know I’m finishing up at work and should meet you guys for [Moving Friend]’s going away party shortly.”

Me: “Huh? What party? Nobody told me about any party.”

Friend #1: “Oh, boy… Hang on. I’m going to call [Friend #2]. I’ll call you right back.”

(A few minutes later, he calls me back, sounding clearly annoyed.)

Friend #1: “So, yeah, it seems no one bothered to tell you about it because they thought you were working tonight. You might want to give [Friend #2] a call.”

(I get off the phone with him and proceed to call [Friend #2].)

Friend #2: “Hey, [My Name]. What’s going on?”

Me: “Dude, what the h***?! You guys are having a going away party for [Moving Friend] and didn’t think to let me know?”

Friend #2: “We thought you were working tonight.”

Me: “I’m off weekday evenings! You should know that!”

Friend #2: “Oh… Um… Well, the party is just getting started. You can still come out if you want.”

(By this point, I’m angry and a bit hurt, but I do decide to go out and join everyone at the party. A week later I go out to the movies, but I’m surprised to find that only [Friend #1] has shown up.)

Me: “No one else is joining us? I thought they wanted to see this movie, too.”

Friend #1: “F*** ‘em. They didn’t tell you about [Moving Friend]’s going away party, so I decided to not tell them about the movie.”

(I have Celiac’s, so I eat a gluten-free diet. I recently learned that a nearby restaurant serves gluten-free toast, so my husband and I decide to go for breakfast and try it out.)

Me: “I’ll have the [meal] with gluten-free toast, please.”

Server: “Oh, I don’t think we do that anymore. I’ll just bring you the pancakes.”

Me: “[Restaurant] has gluten-free pancakes now, too?”

Server: “Yep! Well, whole wheat, so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

(We stared at her for a few seconds before politely asking to speak to someone else. The next server took my order and brought my toast with no problems at all.)

Related:
Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance, Part 3
Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance, Part 2
Gluten Out Of Ten For Ignorance

(It is my first week with a pretty nice restaurant. I learn quickly that my boss likes to joke around with a serious face so he can get people. I live up too true to my blonde hair.)

Me: “Hey, [Boss]! Where do I put the extra silverware? The bucket is too full.”

Boss: *completely serious face* “Oh, just take it upstairs. We have extra bins up there.”

Me: “We have an upstairs?!”

(Cue laughter from the boss and nearby coworkers who are listening. Now, fast forward a couple of hours, and it happens again)

Me: “[Boss], it’s really hot in here; can’t you turn the air down?”

Boss: “No, it stays on that setting, but here. Do this: open that window behind you.”

(This is a huge window, from ceiling to halfway to the floor, and stretches my height at least twice; I’m 5’9”. Pretty obvious it doesn’t open, right?)

Me: “Whoa, wait. It opens? I didn’t know that was possible!”

Boss: *stares at me for a moment before bursting out laughing* “You’re too easy, [My Name]!”

(At the store where I work, it is policy to card for ALL tobacco and alcohol purchases. It doesn’t matter if the person has grey hair and more wrinkles than a Shar Pei; we still have to card them. Failure to card can lose me my job and cost me and the store a hefty fine. The customer I am serving here appears to be in at least his 60s.)

Customer: “I’ll take a can of [chewing tobacco], please.”

Me: “Certainly.” *unlocks the tobacco cabinet and gets out the can* “May I see your ID, please?”

Customer: “You’re kidding me!”

Customer’s Buddy: “The state of things now! Is this an Obama rule? This is ridiculous how things are nowadays! Is his one of Obama’s rules?”

Me: “No, it is a store rule.”

Customer & His Buddy: *laughs* “A store rule?!”

(The customer handed me his ID, I typed in the birthdate and told him his total, and he paid and left, both of them still laughing. This is not the first time a customer has railed about “Obama taking away their rights” when asked for ID.)

Related:
Obama Drama, Part 4
Obama Drama, Part 3
Obama Drama, Part 2