(My boyfriend says that his parents will be in town for a brief visit in two weeks and have expressed an interest in meeting me. We decide that a quiet dinner at my home would be best, which I don’t mind, as I enjoy playing host. As I’m trying to plan the menu, I keep sending my boyfriend recipe ideas and asking him about his parents’ preferences.)

Me: “Is there any food your parents particularly like or dislike? Do they like spicy food or prefer to keep it mild? Are there any foods they’re allergic to? Do they have any sort of dietary restrictions I should know about?”

Boyfriend: “I’m sure anything you pick out will be wonderful and they’ll love it.”

Me: “Yes, but I also want to be considerate of their tastes.”

Boyfriend: “You’re overthinking it. You’re an awesome cook, and they’ll love whatever you make for them.”

(Realizing I’m not going to get any sort of help, I plan what I think to be a well-rounded menu complete with salad, an appetizer that contains shellfish, a main course featuring beef tenderloin, and a dessert that contains chocolate. Fast forward to the fateful evening; food-wise, everything is coming out looking delicious. I meet the parents, and while they seem to respond favorably to me, I notice between the two of them they’ve barely touched their food. I don’t want to call attention to this fact, but I’m worried something is wrong. They end up excusing themselves early, asking my boyfriend to take them back to his home. He quickly sneaks in a kiss on the way out, saying he’ll call. An hour later he calls.)

Me: “So, is everything all right? Your parents didn’t seem to like the anything I made for them and were wanting to get out of here pretty quickly.”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, the food was a bust for them. We’re at [Nearby Restaurant] right now and they’re getting something to eat. I excused myself to the bathroom to call you really quick.”

Me: “Did I do something wrong?”

Boyfriend: “I thought your food was delicious.” *sigh* “It’s just that… Well, my father doesn’t eat any type of salad except potato salad. My mother is a pescetarian, meaning she’ll eat fish, but not meat, and the only beef my father will eat is ground beef. Not to mention the only types of side dishes he’ll eat are either pasta, potatoes, or biscuits, not vegetables like you made. Oh, and my mother is allergic to chocolate.”

Me: “…”

Boyfriend: “…”

Me: *annoyed* “And you didn’t think any of this information was important enough to tell me when I was planning the menu? I asked you about these things and was told, ‘whatever I make is fine.’”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, I f***** up, didn’t I?”

Me: “Big time.”

(And that’s the story of how I first met — and starved — my in-laws. Since I’ve been with their son, they’ve come to love the dishes I make, as long as I keep their preferences and dietary restrictions in mind.)

Related:
A Recipe For Disaster, Part 6
A Recipe For Disaster, Part 5
A Recipe For Disaster, Part 4
A Recipe For Disaster, Part 3
A Recipe For Disaster, Part 2

Customer: “I’d like to order twelves subs for my workers, for pick up around twelve?”

Me: “Okay! Let me write this down.”

Customer: “All right, so, three subs will be turkey, four will be Italian, three will be tuna, one a BLT, and one a veggie. The first turkey is a six-inch; it has provolone cheese. Oh! And one of the Italian subs has provolone, and the BLT has American. Oh, one of the tuna is American, too, but that’s a foot-long. That one has extra onions on it; it’s for [Worker #1]. Can you write everyone’s names on the outside? The BLT has tomatoes on it, and there’s no tomatoes on one of the turkey subs because [Worker #2] is allergic, but she wants olives. Hmm, it looks like [Worker #3] only wants a six-inch, but extra meat. Oh, and can you put green peppers on mine?”

Me: “Okay, hold on. Let’s start over; I’m a little confused. The first turkey, is it six-inch or foot-long?”

Customer: “Foot-long.”

Me: “What toppings do you want on that sub?”

Customer: “American cheese, mustard, green peppers, lettuce, and onions.”

Me: “And who is that sandwich for?”

Customer: “[Worker #4].”

(We repeat this for every sub.)

Me: “Okay, I think I got it all.”

Customer: *scoffs* “Took long enough. That was the easy way?”

(The urgent care doctor says my test results for flu and strep are negative. She prescribes anti-nausea medication and wants to put me on antibiotics for ten days. I have some complicated gut issues, and I explain that the last time I was put on antibiotics, my stomach was messed up for weeks.)

Doctor: “There aren’t any antibiotics you can tolerate?”

Me: “I really don’t know. I could try taking them, but if I get sick, I can’t stop taking them until the bottle is empty, right?”

Doctor: “Oh, I will just give you the five-day Z-Pack, then.”

Me: *trying not to ask her if she’s stupid* “Isn’t the Z-Pack stronger, since it’s used for only a few days?”

Doctor: *lightly and carelessly sighs as she responds* “Oh, yeah…”

(I work at a chain grocery store, and I am one of the few authorized to do returns. One day a cashier signals he needs help with a customer.)

Me: “Hello. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I bought this at [Other Store]. This lady is saying I can’t return it here!”

(I look at the item, and it is indeed not one of ours. It’s actually another store brand product, not a national product.)

Me: “She’s right. I can’t accept this since this is a [Other Store Brand] item. There’s nothing I can do.”

Customer: “But I know you guys are owned by the same person! That means you can take this back! I don’t want to have to go all the way to the other store since I’m already here!”

Me: “Yes, we are owned by the same company, but that doesn’t mean we have the same system or products. You will have to return it to them to get your money back.”

Customer: “But it’s so far away! Are you going to pay for my gas so I go there?”

Me: “No, I will not. You have to go there to get your money back.”

Customer: “You a**hole! You know the customer is always right!”

Me: “But you are not our customer, so in this case, you are not right.”

(I got a verbal warning for it. But I don’t think my manager was serious about it since he was trying hard not to laugh.)

This story is part of our They Said The Thing roundup!

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(I work in a copy shop. We can get in loads of trouble if we are found copying material that’s copyrighted. Our corporate has been seriously cracking down on this, and I’ve heard a few people were fired. A man has submitted a file of a very well-known, copyrighted figure, and wants dozens of prints made.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we aren’t allowed to print copyrighted material.”

Customer: “That’s not copyrighted; I say it’s okay.”

Me: “I’m afraid I just won’t be allowed to print it unless you have some proof you have permission to use the image.”

Customer: “Of course I have permission! I found it on Google!”