(It has just snowed on the weekend, so our restaurant decides to close on Monday. We open the following day, and I come in for night shift. It is about 11:35 pm and I am getting ready to close at midnight. A customer comes in.)

Me: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “Hi. Um… I’ll have the… actually, wait.”

(I give her a confused look.)

Customer: “Was y’all closed yesterday?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. The streets were really icy and a lot of our employees weren’t able to make—”

Customer: *cuts me off* “Are you serious?!” *She starts to yell* “I placed my order several times through the app! I called 62 times and nobody answered! I even have the call list to show you! And then I had to drive up here to find out that y’all was closed!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We didn’t realize the weather was going to—”

Customer: “NO! YOU’RE NOT SORRY! I NEEDED THE FOOD YESTERDAY! ME AND MY KIDS WERE REALLY HUNGRY AND BECAUSE Y’ALL WASN’T OPEN WE WASN’T ABLE TO EAT ANY FOOD!”

Me: “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. Next time, I’ll let the sky know to not make it snow so you can eat.”

Customer: “Okay! Thank you!” *walks out happy*

This story is part of our Somehow Even More Weather roundup!

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(I have a dachshund who weighs about 11 pounds, full grown. Many people feel that it was okay to pick him up. He is a very sweet dog, and at this point has never snapped at anyone, but as he’s aged he has started to growl a bit when children try to carry him. I also have a niece, twelve years old at the time, who has always been a bit of a brat and a bully. This occurs as my six-year-old nephew is reaching for my dog.)

Me: “[Nephew], that isn’t a good idea. [Dog] is a grumpy old man now and doesn’t like to be picked up.”

Nephew: “Does he bite?”

Me: “He hasn’t yet, but I’d rather not risk it. Why not just pet him gently instead? He likes that.”

(My niece, who heard the entire thing, decides then to step in.)

Niece: “Oh, please. He won’t bite; just watch.”

Me: “[Niece], don’t!”

(Before I can stop her, my niece grabs up my dog and cradles him in her arms on his back like a baby, sticking her face close to his. She begins to baby-talk to him, only to be met with a fierce snarl and a quick nip to the nose. He doesn’t break any skin, but she shrieks and almost drops him before I can take him from her.)

Niece: “What?! He bit me! Stupid dog!”

Me: “You should have listened.”

(My nephew begins to pet my dog, who responds by licking his fingers.)

Nephew: “You’re the only stupid dog here, [Niece].”

(My niece stormed off to tell her parents, who informed her that she shouldn’t have ignored what I said. She never messed with my dog again, and my dog never bit at anyone after that. He actually became quite fond of my nephew, who always made certain to be gentle with him.)

Customer: *to one of our favorite servers* “Please take this coleslaw away.”

Server: “Is something wrong with it?”

Customer: “Yes! This coleslaw has a strong cabbage flavor!”

Server: “Sort of how the brisket had a strong beef flavor?”

(A nice elderly lady is paying by check, when her back suddenly cramps and she has to grab hold of the counter.)

Me: “Ma’am, are you okay? Do you want me to grab a chair or something?”

Customer: “No, no, it’s this stupid back of mine. It’s been going out for years. Let me finish this check and get out to the car.” *finishes writing check*

Me: “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. I’ll hurry this along so you can get out of here. May I see your driver’s license?”

Customer: “My what?”

Me: “Your driver’s license. I need it to key in for the check.”

(It’s how our store confirms the person doesn’t have hot checks out on them.)

Customer: “Oh, no; it’s outside in my car.”

Me: “Is it far? I can help you out there. Do you want me to get the purse for you?”

Customer: “I’m parked right outside. Would you be a dear and grab it? The purse is right there in the seat.”

Me: “I most certainly will!”

(I run outside, click the button, and reach in. About that time, someone screams at me and I get hit in the back by a fat purse. It hurts a lot, so I scream and fall down in return, only to get hit in the head.)

Stranger: “You’re stealing someone’s stuff! You’d better put that back right now!”

(She is still hitting me as she says this.)

Me: “Ow! Ma’am! Please stop! I’m getting this for the lady inside!”

Stranger: “HELP! SOMEONE! CALL POLICE!”

(She hits me again as I go running back in the store with the customer’s purse. My nose is bleeding, my glasses are broken, and I’m in tears.)

Customer: “Oh, my God! What happened to you?”

Me: “Someone was protecting your stuff for you.”

(I went on break after that so I could clean up. No cops came by, luckily.)

(Policy states that I have to check for an ID whenever a card says “See ID” on the back, even though it is the signature that is supposed to go in that space which validates the card. Everything is going smoothly as I’m selling a beer to a middle-aged woman, until she hands me her card.)

Me: “I see that this card says ‘See ID’. Can I see a form of identification?”

Guest: “I don’t have one on me. I didn’t think I’d need it, since I’m over 21.”

Me: “I know, ma’am. I don’t have any problem with you purchasing the beer; the card just says that I need to see an ID before running it. Do you have another form of payment?”

Guest: “This is ridiculous; you have my husband’s card right there! Why can’t you just run it? I’m old enough.”

Me: “I can’t run it, because I need to see an ID before running it. It’s policy that if I see that written there, I need to see an ID, or I can’t run the card. Again, this doesn’t have anything to do with you purchasing beer. If your husband has his ID, I can run the card.”

(The guest huffs off and returns a minute later with her husband.)

Guest’s Husband: “What the h*** kind of policy is there against a 42-year-old not being allowed to buy beer?”