(My mom hates any service people, even though she claims she doesn’t. She’s always going to stores and making big scenes whether or not she gets her way. We go to a grocery store and she orders some meat. I’m already cringing because the butcher looks exactly the type that she hates. He gives her her wrapped meat and she pays for it.)

Mom: *taking out a dollar* “And here’s a tip. Go get yourself a cup of coffee, my friend.”

Butcher: *nods in thanks and takes money*

Me: *jaw-drop*

(I am renewing my daughter’s passport. My daughter used to be a cashier for a well-known American chain of stores that had famously opened with much fanfare in Canada, and just as famously closed two years later after failing spectacularly.)

Employee: “I’ll need your daughter’s employment history for the last two years.”

Me: “Well, she used to work for [Store], but — heh, heh — it’s closed now, of course.”

Employee: *dead-eyed stare* “I still need the store’s address and phone number.”

Me: “Um, I have no idea what the address or phone number would be, and I can’t look it up, because they’re closed.”

Employee: “Look, you need to put SOMETHING there.”

Me: “…”

(I was able to remember the address, and my daughter still had the phone number saved on her phone, so I gave them the information they wanted. I still don’t know what they expected to do with it. I would have done just as well to make something up.)

(After having only one hour of training from the regular cook, I am told to open the next day so the cook could go on vacation. Deep frying chicken isn’t rocket science, so I come in, but I inform the restaurant owner and the supervisor I will be working with that I will be a little slow so that I can make sure everything is right. They both say that is acceptable. The next morning I get everything running and am waiting for our first customers. We’ve never had over three customers in the morning. Most of our business is lunch and dinner.)

Supervisor: *sees me waiting at the fryer* “Start cooking sandwiches!”

Me: “[Owner] says we should wait for the first order to cook anything, so that people get fresh food.”

(This is one of the first things I was taught by the regular cook and common sense customer service.)

Supervisor: “Are you dumb or something? I said make the sandwiches!” *she physically pushes me aside and drops five chicken breasts into the fryer*

Me: *after standing there with my mouth open for a minute* “If we cook that many now, we’ll be wasting food. The sandwiches will probably be old by the time we get an order.”

Supervisor: “That’s not your problem! You do what I say and stop mouthing off!”

Me: “Okay.”

(We only sold one sandwich. Two hours later:)

Supervisor: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “Throwing away the ones we didn’t sell.”

(She runs over to the trash can and jerks my hand away, saving the last sandwich and putting it back in the warmer.)

Supervisor: “You don’t do that unless I say so! We still could have sold those!”

Me: “[Owner]’s policy is to throw them out after 30 minutes. I’m pretty sure it’s a health code issue, too.”

Supervisor: “Shut up and do your job!”

(I manage to make it through to lunch service without crying, quitting, or murdering anyone. I have help in the kitchen by now and am assigned to the nugget fryer for lunch. Our nuggets are whole chicken breast chunks cooked from raw. About an hour into service, I realize that the cook on duty when I went on break didn’t clean the fryer oil (which is his job). Without fresh fryer oil, the system is clogged and the nuggets take longer to cook.)

Supervisor: *when she sees an order taking longer to go out* “What’s the hold up?”

Coworker: “We’re waiting on nuggets.”

Supervisor: *sees that I’m on nugget station* “What the h*** is wrong with you? Are you just messing around now?”

Me: *explains the fryer issue*

Supervisor: “No! They’ve cooked for the time it says on the recipe. Get them out. Now!”

Me: “I can’t do that. I just checked one and it was raw in the middle.”

Supervisor: “YOU DON”T KNOW WHAT THE H*** YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! SERVE THE D*** NUGGETS!”

Coworkers: *just staring*

(I stand my ground even though she tries to physically push me again. Pulling one nugget up, I cut it in half showing the still pink, gelatinous center.)

Supervisor: *grabs the nugget, throws it violently in the corner, and stomps off*

(After my shift, I get called into the owner’s office. Apparently some coworkers had complained about the tension in the kitchen.)

Owner: “So what’s your problem with [Supervisor]?”

(Explains everything that had happened, including the health code violations by my supervisor.)

Owner: “Well, I’m not sure what happened here, but I’m sure if you give her a chance you’ll see that [Supervisor] has a heart of gold.”

Me: *shocked*

Owner: “Well, see you tomorrow!”

(I get sent home confused, but since I’m young and I need the job, I don’t quit. A few months later, I am working a morning shift again with the same supervisor. Once again, I have waited until a customer orders before I start cooking food. I am about to pull the chicken out of the fryer.)

Supervisor: *when she realizes that the order is (obviously) taking a little longer because it’s first cook, she storms up to my station* “You are the dumbest person in the world! Get away! I’ll do this myself!”

(At this point, she has physically pushed me again and I have had enough.)

Me: “No, I am doing this correctly. I can handle it. Just let me do it right. The customer is happy to be getting a fresh sandwich.”

(I point to the customer who seems be perfectly happy chatting with the cashier.)

Supervisor: “GET OUT OF THE–!”

(She stops because she has just raised her hand to back-hand me, and seen me step into her personal space and raise my chin, daring her to try it.)

Me: “If you want to do it so badly, do it yourself.”

(I take off my apron and walk out the back door. On my way out I am crying and wondering if I have made a huge mistake, when the junior supervisor sees me in the parking lot. I tell her what just happened. She reaches out to shake my hand.)

Junior Supervisor: “You handled that well. I’m sorry it has to be this way. You put up with a lot more from her than most people. You were a good worker. Keep your chin up!”

(I never saw either supervisor again, but I will never forget what I learned from both of them!)

(I have a hair appointment and the stylist recommends a certain store to get the extensions I want. Note: the name of this store has “hair” in it. I check online the night before to get the address and opening hours, and everything seems to be in order. I arrive the next day with my boyfriend, and there are two gentlemen sitting outside of an empty looking shop.)

Me: “Hello, is this [Store]?”

The Two Men: “Yes. We don’t have any hair.”

My Boyfriend: “Why not?”

The Two Men: “We’re just out. The shipment didn’t come in.”

(They are sitting on a lot of unopened boxes.)

Me: “Okay… thank you for your time.”

The Two Men: “If you had called ahead we could have saved you a trip; next time, please be a little more prepared.”

Me: “I’m very sorry I assumed you were ready to sell the product you advertised!”

(We got the hair from somewhere else, and when I told my stylist she was fuming!)

(My father-in-law used to lead caving tours in a national park. This is one of the stories he told us. While leading a small group of VERY hung-over guys…)

Father-In-Law: “Okay, we’re going to have to crawl through this crack. It’s so narrow if you take a deep breath you’ll get stuck. You have to take your pack off and push it ahead of you while you crawl through. There’s also an incline half-way through, so you have to bend yourself up and over to keep going. I’ll wait for all of you to start in and go through last to make sure everyone gets through.”

(After the last person starts in, he runs through the totally open cave room to the other side of the rock formation they’re crawling through. As the first person begins to exit…)

Father-In-Law: “Man, you guys are moving slow today! What’s taking so long?”