(I work as a banquet server in a hotel. We often do conference-style buffets, meaning we set everything up and then need to bus the tables as quickly as possible before the meeting starts. Upon passing one of the guests I notice a napkin and a used tea bag on her plate, which is slightly pushed away. Naturally, I attempt to clear it, and apparently, my coworker tried to do the same thing just minutes before.)

Lady: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Me: “Oh, I am so sorry, ma’am; I thought you were done.”

Lady: “DON’T YOU TOUCH MY PLATE!” *scowl* “And get me your manager, now!“

Me: “Sure, right away, ma’am.”

Manager: “How may I help you?”

Lady: “The one with glasses—” *my coworker* “—and the skinny, [race] one—” *me* “—were trying to clear my plate while I WASN’T DONE WITH IT YET! I want them both fired!”

(She goes on a long rant about incompetent servers.)

Manager: “Okay, ma’am, I will talk to them.”

(We explained our side of the story. The manager just laughed and said that of course we were in no trouble whatsoever, since we did nothing wrong. Instead, he recounted the events to the party contact, who also happened to be the lady’s boss. She was appalled at her employee’s behavior and told him they would have a talk. I also proceeded to inform the rest of the servers about the lady, and we all agreed to stay as far away from her as possible during the next course, meaning that everyone’s plates got cleared except hers. The last thing I heard from her before bidding farewell to the entire group was more grumbling about “lazy servers who can’t even clear a plate.”)

(I grew up in Maine but recently moved to Wisconsin. I’m waiting on a table.)

Customer: “Your accent is interesting. Where are you from?”

Me: “New England.”

Customer: “Oh, like London? Did you ever get to see the queen?!”

Me: “Um, no. New England. Specifically Maine.”

Customer: “I had no idea Maine was in Britain.”

Me: “It’s…” *sigh* “I’ll go get your drinks.”

(They were in their fifties.)

(My boyfriend and I are on our way home from my cousin’s wedding to the reception and decide to stop at the mall for some cat food. My boyfriend and I don’t really conform to relationship gender role stereotypes, so while he’s looking for his preferred energy drink, I’m in my nice dress carrying the biggest bag we could find up to the registers. We get up to the counter to pay and the cashier — a man in his 30s — never once looks at me or speaks to me, even when I pull out money to pay. My boyfriend’s hands are full with the cat food and his drink, yet the cashier still tries to hand him my change and receipt. )

Me: “I’ll take that, since it is customary to give the change back to the person that actually paid.”

(The cashier just stares at me like it’s a cardinal sin for a woman to want to pay her own way and speak to him. I take my car keys out and say:)

Me: “Guess which one of us is also the driver?!”

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(I’m working a closing shift at my second job, which is at a popular meat sandwich chain. The night has been slow on and off, giving us enough time to get stuff done with the occasional moments to socialize. I’m currently the one running the drive-thru.)

Manager: *stops mid-sentence to let out a loud laugh* “Holy s***!”

Me & Coworker: “What?”

Manager: *points out windows at drive-thru line* “That guy came in too fast and almost jumped our driveway!”

(My coworker and I turn in time to see a car backing up and away from the cement curbed strip of grass that separates the drive-thru and the main road.)

Me: “Well, when you really want [Restaurant]…”

(The car straightens out and pulls into the drive-thru at a leisurely pace. I’m totally ready when they pull up to the speaker.)

Me: “Nice driving. What can I get for you tonight?”

(Both of my coworkers AND the driver of the car burst into laughter.)

Driver: “I know; that was terrible!”

(My manager took over the order from there, and also smacked me on the arm. I didn’t care, though, because it was the highlight of that closing night.)

(I work at a big box hardware store that sells a bit of everything. It is October in Wisconsin so it gets rather chilly.)

Customer: “Hey, do you guys have a heater that plugs into a cigarette lighter in the car?”

Me: “Sure! Right this way.”

(I take her to the product.)

Customer: “Oh, this shuts off after twenty minutes; I need one to last longer. I am going to be camping in my car for a few days.”

Me: “Yeah, they shut off for safety reasons; after all, it’s designed to defrost windows and warm up the car while it heats up. But we do have this blanket that plugs into the lighter, as well.”

Customer: “Okay, I will take that, too. You see, my uncle practices his wake every year and we have a big party. He just wants everything to be right when he dies. We all just sleep in our cars.”

Me: “Okay, well, you have a great day!”

(I got away as fast as I could to go tell my coworkers this story. In hindsight, she did look a little frumpy and unkempt, so she could have been homeless and thought of a story to make it seem better for herself, but she could have come up with something a little less bizarre and messed up!)