(My friends and I are having dinner at an upscale, casual restaurant. Everything on the menu looks delicious, but the portions are large, and I am not really hungry. When the server comes to our table to take our order, I ask:)
Me: “Do you have any hamburgers smaller than half-pound?”
Server: *taps her chin* “Well, we do have eight-ounce burgers.
(My friend invites me to a sports day held by his work, mainly because I have a car so I can drive him up. As it is the middle of summer, I pack a small cooler with some drinks for us, and I throw in a package of “freezie pops,” as well. We meet up with some other friends who also work there, and we are sharing the freezie pops between us when a woman walks up, followed by two kids.)
Woman: “Where did you get those?” *pointing at the freezie pops*
Me: “Oh, we actually brought them ourselves, since we figured it would be so hot. Do–”
Woman: *cutting me off* “We’ll take four.”
Me: *pausing, then plastering on a big smile* “Sorry, we only brought enough for us.”
(At that, the woman makes to lunge at the cooler, but I block her path with my body.)
Me: “Ex-cuse you!”
(She huffs, then stomps away as her kids begin whining about not getting freezie pops.)
Me: *opening up the cooler to reveal the dozen or so freezie pops we have left* “So, anyone want seconds?”
(Seriously, I’d been about to offer that woman some, but not with that kind of attitude. It’d be one thing if she asked nicely, but with just that demand, there was no way I was giving her squat.)
(My mother and I are driving home from another state. The GPS worked wonderfully on the drive there, but is refusing to actually start navigating home. After the third try at talking the phone into giving directions, my mom picks up her phone to do it manually.)
Mom: *under her breath* “Moronic piece of s***.”
Phone: *cheerfully* “I hear you!”
(I work at a big chain movie theater every summer during college. It’s a great place to work; the only drawback is that it is a minimum-wage job. I am working concessions on a different night than I usually work. An elderly gentleman comes to my register.)
Gentleman: “I will take a medium popcorn and a large soda.”
Me: “Sir, did you know if you get a large popcorn, you actually pay the same price as a medium because it becomes part of a combo?”
Gentleman: “Of course I know that. You guys always try to get me to upgrade. Trying to take all my money with your high popcorn prices. You should be ashamed of yourself for selling simple popcorn and soda at these outrageous prices. How can you be here knowing you are swindling people out of their money? Huh?”
Me: “Okay… Medium popcorn and large soda it is! Would you like butter flavoring on the popcorn?”
Gentleman: “Yeah, might as well get something for all that money I’m giving you.”
(A coworker comes to help me after hearing what the gentleman was saying. He gets him his items, after paying the outrageous price for his food, the customer leaves.)
Coworker: “You handled him well. I love how people assume we lowly teenage workers control the prices or get commission from selling popcorn. He comes in here almost every week and gets the same thing, and complains about the prices and shames the cashier. If you ever get him again, don’t mention the upgrade; it sets him off. Sometimes I just want to scream at him, ‘If you don’t like it, don’t come in every week and buy it!’ Wish he would sneak stuff in like everyone else.”
Me: “Right?!”
(I work in a motel.)
Guest: “I don’t like my room and would like a new one.”
Me: “What was wrong with the room?”
Guest: “It’s a handicap room.”
Me: “Oh, so, you don’t like the additional handicap stuff?”
Guest: “No, I don’t like the smell. Everyone knows that handicapped people smell because they can’t take care of themselves.”
(I know that the room has recently been renovated.)
Me: “Well, actually—”
Guest: “WELL, IT’S TRUE! Give the room to someone else! Let it be their problem.”
