In this day and age, Karens are unavoidable. You will see them almost anywhere—at malls, parks, playgrounds, you name it. But the one place you'll surely run into them is at a restaurant. Food service workers, therefore, have it the worst because they cannot avoid them even if they wanted to. From having to fulfill gross demands to getting stiffed on tips, here are some blood-boiling stories from food-service workers of dine-in Karens on their worst behavior:
1. All Yolked Up
Once upon a bustling morning, as I served patrons in an incredibly busy and famed breakfast café, an endearing elderly couple made their entrance. They seemed like the quintessential sweethearts from a postcard. As was customary and per their preference, I took them through the enticing variety on our special menu.
The lady chose the gourmet duck hash, an adventurous choice indeed. Meanwhile, her partner opted for the evergreen simplicity of poached eggs on a slice of toast. All seemed well until the calm surface of morning service was irreversibly disrupted when their order arrived.
The gentleman's happy demeanor took an unexpected turn when I served him food. Reacting with what seemed like extraordinary shock, he pointed out what he considered a cardinal failure in my services. He was deeply aggrieved by the absence of a tablespoon with his eggs.
Puzzlingly, he hadn't made this request earlier but claimed that it was universally acknowledged that poached eggs should be served with a tablespoon. As someone with nearly ten years of experience in the industry and having served countless poached eggs, this detail was news to me.
I responded to his surprising displeasure with a sincere apology and assured him that I'd promptly bring him a spoon. Regrettably, my efforts to rectify the situation didn't quite pan out as expected. His frustration escalated as he declined my offer, asserting that his breakfast experience had been irretrievably tainted.
What happened next was something I certainly hadn't seen coming. In a dramatic exclamation of disappointment, he flung his food-laden plate in my direction and exited the café in a huff. His wife, caught in the uncomfortable incident, sent me a warm, apologetic smile before quietly following him out.
That day, I tackled an eight-hour shift bearing the battle scars of the episode, covered in the remnants of egg yolk.
2. A Recipe For Disaster
Once upon a time when I was still fairly young, navigating through the hurdles of high school, I held a part-time job as a busboy. It was an interesting experience, to say the least, teaching me numerous lessons about patience and the quirks of human behavior.
There used to be this one family, a typical nuclear set-up—mom, dad, and their two young offspring. They couldn't have appeared more normal if they tried to. However, their appearances were deceiving, for they were incredibly skilled at creating a mess and disrupting the peaceful ambiance.
These destroyers of the dining table had mastered the art of chaos. I swear it was as if their idea of a fun family dinner included spreading fries haphazardly everywhere, and transforming the floor into a miniature landmine of leftovers.
Watching them was equal parts horror and fascination. Once, I actually witnessed one of the kids innocently dunking the salt and pepper shakers right into a glass of milk.
My patience was already hanging by a thread at this point, then the dad beckoned me over. There was this oblivious grin on his face as he nonchalantly requested, "Hey, could we get a fresh glass of milk for our junior? He had a little mishap here."
Adding to the spectacle was a continuous and ear-piercing concert of screams from the kids. The parents, as if absolutely immune to the cacophony, showed no signs of putting a stop to the chaos. This was their routine every single time they visited, turning one hour into a parade of pandemonium.
I endured the chaos and picked up their mess so many times, I lost count. Finally, our hostess, having had enough of the mayhem, kindly asked them not to return to the restaurant. Their departure was not quiet, they threw quite a tantrum, but at least they honored the request and never showed their faces again.
3. They Left Me With A Sour Taste
There was one particularly memorable Sunday that I look back on with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. On this day, a large group of people decided to grace our establishment with their presence. It was not a small gathering but rather a rather sizable party that took up a good part of my section of the floor.
They walked in, casually conversing among themselves and settled into their seats comfortably, preparing for what seemed to be a lengthy visit. As their server, I enthusiastically took their order, which, as it turned out, was quite unusual.
In a dining scenario, one would typically expect an order with a jumble of different dishes, perhaps a drink or two, but this time was entirely different. They simply requested the endless chip appetizer, a popular choice in our restaurant that allows patrons to enjoy an unlimited supply of freshly-made chips for a fixed, quite affordable price.
But the unexpected twist was the drinks—or rather, the lack of them. There were no fancy cocktails, no frothy beers or robust wines; the only thing they wanted to quench their thirst with was clear, humble glasses of water.
Ordinary and cost-free, they requested for water all around. Furthermore, they even asked for extra slices of lemon, creating a DIY lemon-water experience right at the table.
The group occupied their seats for a few hours, a period that essentially spanned my entire working shift. With no other patrons in my section, I had to wait around attending to this group, refilling their chips and water, and enhancing their DIY citrus escapade with extra lemons.
Although this was unusual, it wouldn't have been so egregious if it weren't for the final twist. The worst part of this entire experience was when it came time to settle the bill.
Their total purchase constituted only the cost of the endless chip appetizer—a paltry $6. And when it came to acknowledging services rendered, their tip was an astonishingly meager 50 cents.
4. Sweet Revenge
For nearly eight months, I had been an employee at a charming little Thai restaurant in our town. We had regulars, just as any small eatery does, but there was one couple that stood out.
They were teenagers, still trying to grasp the concept of social norms. Every Sunday night, like clockwork, they would show up, enjoy their meals, yet regardless of the level of service provided, they never tipped.
One day, my boss, evidently fed up with their attitude, drew a line in the sand. Suddenly she announced, "It doesn't matter whose responsibility they are next week, it's decided that you are serving them, and ensure the service is worth that 0% tip."
I had to double-check for a moment to make sure I was hearing her correctly—she couldn't really be suggesting what I thought she was, could she?
Seeking clarity, I asked, "Do you mean...?" She could barely contain her delight as she confirmed my suspicions with a nod and a wickedly smug grin. That's when the plan was hatched.
A week later, five minutes into my shift, the teenagers stepped in. My boss steered them towards my section, issued a knowing smile in my direction, and with a twinkle in her eye, she sent a clear message—enact the plan.
There was a palpable rush of mischief in the air as I deliberately waited for around five minutes before going over to welcome them. They were a little impatient, ready to order, but I feigned forgetfulness, saying that I had left my pen behind and would quickly retrieve it.
Instead, I took a short recess outside and enjoyed a momentarily escape from the ongoing charade. Despite their presence, the restaurant was relatively empty—I decided the food wasn't an immediate priority as I wasn't handling it at the time. My hands remained unwashed, and the scent of smoke clung to me like a worn-out jacket.
Resuming the act, I took the girl's order and promptly cut the boy off as he began to echo hers, dismissing him with a dismissive wave of my finger and pulled out my phone instead.
I found something idly engaging, texting my fiancé about our dinner plans, managing to wheedle in a misunderstanding about their order and an extra dash of bean sprouts into the mix.
The couple's food was prepared while I was busy sharing a hilarious story about my cat with a bemused boss and another waitress. After an engaging chat, I finally mustered the effort to serve them their "modified" meals. They were NOT having it...but I just nonchalantly strolled away as they began their protests about the bean sprouts.
A few moments later, I noticed a familiar face and it happened to be a good friend, a colleague from a prior job. We collectively spent a few good minutes filling each other in on the latest gossip. Meanwhile, our non-tippers were desperately attempting to get my attention. I decided to entertain my friend instead, turning a deaf ear to their calls.
Despite their persistent attempts to call me over with their empty plates, I focused on pampering my friend, attending to the pettiest of their requirements. Eventually, they managed to stop me, asking for takeaway boxes as they prepared to retreat. I assured them I would take care of it as soon as I had served the food for the other table.
On my way back, I paused for some downtime, playing a game on my phone before providing them with a single small box instead of the two they had asked for. They request the check and larger boxes, I again promised delivery and casually asked my boss to monitor the table while I snuck away for another breather.
I returned to find that the non-tippers had sought my boss's assistance for boxes and payment. They declared their intention never to return. My boss had a triumphant glint in her eyes as she informed me she'd voided their check, handed me the $20 they had to pay for the meal, adding the sweet bit—"You earned it."
5. She Had Me Tongue Tied
During my time working at a fast-food restaurant, the store was conveniently situated near a bustling convention in Ottawa. Ottawa is renowned for its bilingual charm, with vast majorities fluently speaking both French and English. Nevertheless, not every inhabitant is bilingual, including myself. I am certainly not adept at speaking French.
I was raised in the prairies, where learning French isn't compulsory. During a particular busy period, a woman approached me at the counter and began placing an order in speedy French. Despite my hard efforts, I struggled to understand her rapid-fire language, only able to pick up fragments of what she was saying.
After several minutes of engaging in a confusing dialogue and attempting to provide her with the right answers, I decided to ask for assistance. I turned to one of my colleagues who is perfectly bilingual. However, before my co-worker could intervene, the woman's response took me aback.
Asserting her position, she uttered, with a tinge of resentment in her flawless English: "This is Canada. We speak French AND English". I was left stunned and speechless; the realization that she understood English all along and yet chose not to converse in a language we both comprehended was astonishing and unsettling.
The rudeness penetrated me and I felt my face warming with embarrassment and indignation. I was taken aback, not only by the uncalled-for remark, but also by the fact THAT SHE HAD UNDERSTOOD ME PERFECTLY FROM THE BEGINNING AND DIDN'T BOTHER TO SWITCH LANGUAGES.
I couldn't understand her motivations. It was challenging to comprehend why anyone would choose to create such a perplexing situation. I was left in shock and stared at her for a few lingering moments, my mind grappling to absorb the interaction.
Flustered and astounded, I decided the best course of action was to walk away quietly, leaving the woman to ponder her own rudeness.
6. My Manager Had To Tip Them Off
In my younger days, I held down a job as a busboy in the popular restaurant chain, TGIFridays. This line of work was never monotonous and one particularly eventful day lingered in my memory.
During one of my shifts, a big party of about 20 individuals sauntered in and took their seats. The restaurant was buzzing with lively chitter-chatter and the clinking of cutlery against plates. They went about their meal, devouring dishes and washing them down with drinks. As the evening drew to a close, they called for the bill.
The mammoth bill circulated around the table as they took turns to cover their individual expenses. There was much pulling out of wallets and sifting through notes and coins, paired with flustered brows and scratching heads. They lingered at the table, neck deep in debates, disputing costs and portions, trying to make sense of the hefty tab.
Eventually, amidst all the confusion, they seemed to reach a consensus. They beckoned their waitress, a small slip of a girl who had been diligently tending to their needs throughout the evening.
One member from the group, whose voice boomed above the others, addressed her. And then he uttered what may well have been the most ludicrous argument she had ever encountered: "We ain't order no gratuity. Show me gratuity on this table".
His words may as well have been a final straw to the waitress's already stretched patience. The conversation from there descended into a heated back and forth, neither party willing to back down.
Despite much explaining by the waitress about the concept of gratuity, he refused to see reason, even questioning its presence on the table. There were glares, tense words, and the table became a battlefield of sorts.
The scene escalated to the point where the poor waitress, overwhelmed by the dispute, broke into tears. It was disheartening to witness her distress, after all her hard work and effort.
That's when the manager had to step in, striding over to the table to soothe tempers and provide his own explanation of what gratuity—so casually labeled as a 'show-on-table' entity—actually was.
At this juncture, despite the bleak situation, I couldn't help but marvel at the underappreciated complexities that restaurant responsibilities bring with them.
7. She Was Whining For No Reason
A couple entered the restaurant, a lady proudly accompanied by her husband. Before they took their seats, they stressed an important constraint for dining. The lady, with a serious expression, somberly informed us, "I have a severe allergy to white wine. It's so bad that even a slightest trace in my food could be lethal".
Upon hearing this, I sprang into action, rushing back into the kitchen to relay her dietary restrictions to the kitchen staff. It was vital we took every precaution to keep her meal completely devoid of white wine to ensure her safety.
In the midst of this cautious preparation, her husband decided to order our special of the day. Upon hearing his choice, I swiftly reminded the lady, in the friendliest tone possible. I said, "I'd advise you not to sample any of your husband's dish.
It's graced with a delicate beurre blanc sauce that contains white wine. We would like your dining experience with us to be both enjoyable and safe". With their orders prepared, I carried their food to their table, eager handoff their carefully prepared meals.
What happened next left me utterly confounded. The lady, without any hesitation, reached over to her husband's plate, and scooped up a heaping forkful of our wine-infused special.
I barely had time to react before she popped the morsel into her mouth. "A single bite won't cause me harm," she nonchalantly stated while chewing, directly opposing her initial cautionary tone.
Moreover, her behavior towards the staff as well as other guests was unsettling. She had this peculiar habit of drawing every waiter into seemingly endless, unnecessary conversations.
All the while, the servers were scrambling to manage their bustling sections. She rarely missed an opportunity to interrupt their flow with her odd, sometimes off-putting banter.
One instance that stood out was when she intercepted another customer in the narrow hallway that leads to the restrooms. Despite the confined space and annoyed looks, she continued to assertively point out to the man that she found his demeanor too loud.
This whole interaction reflected the same type of inconsiderateness as her overall behavior throughout the evening.
8. She Was A Mutton For Punishment
In my time as a server working at a posh country club, I came across a variety of interesting characters, but one couple in particular still stands out in my memory. As they settled into their seats, even before our initial formalities, the woman launched into complaints about the five-minute delay in getting their table ready.
Her first bone of contention was the seemingly eternal wait they had to endure while we were hustling to arrange their table. Just as I was about to introduce myself and navigate through the usual pleasantries, she was already expressing her discontent about having to wait. Her impatience was as noticeable as her disappointment.
The woman further went on a tirade about how every encounter she's had with the filet mignon was a disappointing experience. I couldn't believe what I was hearing—according to her, it was always prepared wrong and left a sour taste.
I recommended that she might want to try an alternative dish since she found the steak consistently unsatisfactory. However, she ignored my suggestion and ordered the filet mignon yet again.
I shot a quick, informing look towards the kitchen—hoping to save everyone, including myself, from the impending drama. They were informed and took up the challenge to prepare the lady's steak impeccably. When her meal was ready, I delivered it, putting the plate of steak in front of her with some cautious optimism.
But instead of the pleased look I was hoping for, I was greeted with a cheeky smirk on her face—a clear indication that she was far from pleased. She took out her butter knife and tapped the flat of it against the steak thrice. I could already sense what was coming.
Without even making an attempt to cut or taste the steak, she proclaimed it to be 'disgusting', with a dismissive wave of her hand. Mirroring her will, I dutifully took the dish back to the kitchen and organized for a replacement.
The kitchen staff prepared a fresh plate of steak for her, intending to fix the situation. The second steak plate seemed to fair better; she ate half of it and doggy bagged the rest to take home.
But as they prepared to leave, she requested for the manager—and that's when she unleashed her inner Karen. With an air of dissatisfaction lingering about her, she unleashed a barrage of complaints and criticisms.
She griped extensively about every small thing, and as a result, she was given her meal for free, along with a complimentary dessert. Despite this seeming resolution, I was left with a measly tip that did nothing for the mental roller-coaster her visit had put me through.
9. They Were A Bunch Of Turkeys
Allow me take you back to a Thanksgiving day that I'll never forget. Working that day was already pretty hard. It was a festive season meant for families to come together, feast, and make memories, yet, there I was, clocked in at my job, miles away from the joyful celebration going on at my home.
I had to put on a brave face while my close-knit family savored the sumptuous turkey without me. Trust me, it's never easy working on such a day when you know your loved ones are gathered around the dining table, exchanging laughter and sharing stories—it's exceptionally tough, to say the least.
As luck would have it, a family of six trooped in that day. They sort of felt like a mirror image of my own family, their cheerful banter amplifying the sound of silence from my missing clan, enhancing my feelings of longing and homesickness. Yet, I gritted my teeth and served them, pasting a smile on my face as I welcomed them to our place.
Unfortunately, the situation grew from bad to unimaginable. After a hearty meal, filled with conversation, smiles, and enjoyment, the family decided to leave without paying.
A classic tale, they dined and dashed. Not only did they leave me to bear the burden of their unpaid bill, the loss of what, by all rights, was supposed to be a fairly lavish tip added insult to injury. What should have been a handsome amount ended up as a big, fat zero.
The betrayal of the family's audacious act felt like a slap across my face. All I could do was stare, shocked, at their empty table, missing silverware, and my opportunity for a well-earned tip. I felt my cheeks grow hot, my eyes well up as disappointment and frustration hit.
To cut a long story short, it was a night to remember for all the wrong reasons. After they left, I stood there, overwhelmed by what had transpired, and as the reality of the situation sank in, I couldn't hold back my tears any longer.
As the night drew to a close, I found myself crying, alone and hurt, my Thanksgiving spirit completely crushed. The image of that family dining and dashing, causing me to miss out on my deserved tip, became a bitter memory of that Thanksgiving.
Sign up to our newsletter.
History’s most fascinating stories and darkest secrets, delivered to your inbox daily. Making distraction rewarding since 2017.
10. Never-Ending Nightmare
For a couple of years, I worked as an attendant at Olive Garden. I found myself in the thick of another bustling evening during our popular "unlimited pasta bowl" promotion.
Early on in the service, I had to attend a family table of five—a couple with two sons and a toddler, a little girl who was probably two or three years old. Every member of the family had a generously rotund appearance. The little girl, in contrast to her clean diaper, donned a stained shirt.
11. Get A Handle On It!
Here is my story from a time when I was working as a bar back at a bustling pub. I was bustling around, trying to serve the bustling crowd when by a stroke of unfortunateness, I dropped a fork. Lo and behold, it decided to drop itself right onto the foot of a rather tipsy gentleman seated nearby.
He looked surprised, more than anything else. However, the surprise quickly morphed into annoyance, as the man shook his head ruefully. Some barely audible grumbles followed. It’s safe to say, he wasn't happy about having his foot used as a landing pad for wayward cutlery.
During this unfortunate episode, not only did a fork find its way to the floor, but various tidbits from plates met the same fate. So, there I was, bending down with a towel in hand.
My task was no longer exclusively serving drinks but also cleaning up an unintentional mess. Meeting the man's eye, I made sure he noticed that he now had company at the floor level, just so he wouldn't inadvertently add to the mess.
However, it seems, the message didn't quite convey itself correctly. Because what happened next still makes me shake my head in disbelief. As he rose from his chair, aiming to make his way to the little boys' room, the man placed his foot squarely on my hand.
A yelp of pain escaped me. His response? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except for, let’s not forget, a chuckle. A nasty, insensitive chuckle. As he ambled away, still apparently amused, I was left nursing not just my hand, but also a bruised spirit. It was one of those moments when your belief in humanity takes a hit.
Frustrated and needing a moment to regroup, I retreated to the back, nursing my throbbing hand. It was a bewildering experience, one I wish I hadn't had.
To this day, it stands out as a clear reminder that while working in the service industry has its rewards, it also comes with its fair share of challenges. To put it simply, not every day is a good day. I'm sharing this anecdote to shed light on some of the behind-the-scenes struggles that individuals in customer-facing roles can face.
After all, empathy can go a long way in creating positive experiences for both sides.
12. Short-Changed, Short-Tempered
The other day, I experienced a rather remarkable incident. A small gathering of young women sauntered into my place of work, placing their orders of modest proportions—a simple side of crispy, golden fries and tangy lemonade.
Our usual protocol is the act of rounding up each customer's bill to the closest dollar. The practice primarily exists to side-step any fuss about pennies and spare change and the hassles it brings along. On this particular occasion, the mathematical rounding operation resulted in their bill being $0.13 steeper.
In my heart of hearts, I was somewhat confident. My hopes were afloat, believing these girls wouldn't flinch at this slight difference of barely a dime and some pennies. Measures to address any concerns the customers might have were already in my mind.
However, the scene that unfolded thereafter was so far from what I'd envisioned. It left me profoundly flustered. I was unequivocally, undeniably mistaken.
The peaceful ambience of the quaint diner was disrupted as these young ladies defied all norms of civility and patience. Their reaction to the minimal extra charge was not just a complaint, but a boisterous outcry, a shocking surprise to my naive anticipation.
In an attempt to pacify the escalating situation, I fumbled around in my bag, seeking out the required change to cover the difference. Concurrently, they launched a conversation with my supervisor to express their indignation over the matter.
Perhaps appeasement is the best solution in such situations. My manager, in a move to mollify their anger, opted to refund their entire meal, a move I hadn't seen coming.
The end of their stint didn't end as I had hoped. As the girls prepared to depart, their farewell was tainted with rather uncouth language directed towards me. A gesture so unprovoked, it left a deep impression on me as they vacated their seats.
13. I Wanted To Ice This Guy
My occupation used to be that of a bartender in a fairly popular theater. A night that I still vividly recall, due to its feverish intensity and the heightened stakes due to our lack of adequate staffing, embedded itself in my memory—a testament to customer service and the trials it entails.
An older fellow approached the bustling bar, placing an order for a glass of Jack Daniels amidst the pandemonium. Our exchange peaked at the point where I politely queried if he had a preference for ice in his whiskey.
Rather than responding, he chose to immerse himself in distracting banter with his companion, leaving me in a quandary about what to do next, and simultaneously juggling the demands of the other restless patrons eagerly awaiting their drinks.
Considering a frozen addition to whiskey is more often the commonplace preference, I decided to place a few cubes in his drink, working under the assumption that his lack of response indicated a silent agreement.
Eventually, his attention gravitated from his friend back towards his unnamed glass of bourbon. His face, now tinged a shade of red that advertised his discontentment loud and clear, presented a picture of complete outrage. "What in God's name is this? I didn't ask for ice," he grumbled, his wrinkles deepening in tandem with his displeasure.
Bewildered and caught off guard, I managed to quickly correct the slight mix-up with his drink, peppering my actions with a flurry of embarrassed apologies. To my dismay, he continued to brandish an unpleasant glare in my direction, as if I were a mere blemish on his otherwise perfect evening.
He paid his dues, muttered a disapproving scoff, and left without another word. His departure was the chilling punctuation mark to an incident that was a reminder of the challenging world of bartending. Sincerely, Tallemiex.
14. The Baconator
In my previous employment at the ever-popular sandwich chain, Subway, we served an array of colorful characters. One customer, in particular, has become the stuff of legend amongst my fellow employees and me, and we affectionately refer to her as the "Crazy Bacon Lady" whenever we revisit her peculiar escapade.
Each memory of this episode often incites immense laughter. The Crazy Bacon Lady, who appeared to be a woman of advancing years, entered our establishment on a busy afternoon, inquiring about the price of a six-inch BLT sandwich. We courteously informed her that it would cost her $3.50, plus tax.
To our surprise, her reaction was anything but usual. She embarked on an intense tirade, vehemently insisting that the same sandwich was priced at $2 when she purportedly visited the day before. However, we maintain that this claim was false, as it was her first time gracing our store with her presence.
Moreover, in the three years of my tenure at Subway, the price of the BLT sandwich had never dropped to $2. As she paced along the sandwich-building line, she remarked with religious undertones, "I am a good Christian woman. I don't deserve this treatment. For $3.50, your bacon better be fresh! The service in this place is abhorrent! I'M NEVER COMING BACK AGAIN, IS THAT CLEAR!"
However, the climax of this incredible saga happened when she reached the cash register. My colleague, who was deftly handling the cash register that day, calmly told her the grand total, tax inclusive, stood at $3.68.
The response this elicited from her was nothing short of theatrical: "You people are minions of the DEVIL!" With palpable disdain, she set down the exact change on the counter, quickly grabbed her sandwich, and stormed off in high dudgeon.
This curious encounter with the Crazy Bacon Lady, as related by yours truly, Br1lliantJim, seems so surreal that it feels like a scene straight out of a sitcom. But truth, as we all know, is often stranger than fiction.
15. Tossed Out Of Target
Just after completing my college degree, I found myself positioned as a manager at a Starbucks. It was as though life had handed me an opportunity—and an apron and a chance to see humanity in all its varying facets. That's exactly what happened one fine day, over a simple cup of iced tea that was inadvertently made wrong.
To give you an idea, redoing it would have taken less than a minute. However, the response we got was anything but proportional. The tea's recipient, a woman with a condescending air about her, reacted egregiously. With the precision of a quarterback, she flung the drink back over the counter.
She then spun around to her daughter, unleashing a smug smirk that seemed to encompass more than just the presumed superiority over a barista. From a voice dripping with erstwhile entitlement and disdain, she declared, "See, this is why we finish high school."
As the manager on duty, it was my role to keep the peace. Hence, I took it upon myself to deny her any further service. In an attempt to outsmart us, she threatened to bring in the Target store manager. But fate had its amusing twists in store that she didn’t foresee. Our Starbucks outlet was nested within the same Target where I previously worked.
The situation could have spiraled in various directions, but another factor contributed in favor of the Starbucks staff—solidarity from the queue. Several customers who had witnessed the unpleasant spectacle validated my account, ensuring that the narrative didn’t change. As a result, the haughty woman was asked to leave the establishment.
Remembering it now, it evidently seems that life's not just about coffee or tea, but also about brewing resilience in tricky situations!
16. I Got The Short End Of The Stick
What I'm about to tell you is a bit of a tale, a memorable incident on one of my first days as a fresh face at the job. It started off ordinary enough, I was adapting to the working environment, trying to get my sea legs in the bustling atmosphere of the spot.
But then, abruptly and rather unhappily, the course of the day took a sharp turn. It's all thanks to one particularly uncouth individual. This man came across as mean-spirited from the onset, instantly igniting a cloud of melancholy that loomed over me for the rest of the day.
He directed his venom at me and tried to undermine my credentials—insisting that due to my dwarfism, I was evidently not suited for the job. His rant then spiraled into unnecessary, improper discourse about how he felt inclusivity was nonsense, with a barrage of offhanded comments thrown in for good measure.
His unpleasant behavior, nudging me further into the corner, was, to say the least, very disheartening. Adding to my chagrin, I was admittedly, not an exceptional waiter at the outset.
But, my shortcomings were rooted in my struggle with retaining details, wrangling the pressure of the job, getting the hang of balancing trays, among a flurry of other aspects that popped up within the teeming, fast-paced world of hospitality.
None of these issues had anything to do with my dwarfism. They were perhaps more a matter of experience, tenacity, and having the right mindset.
Suffice it to say, my performance struggles were due to attributes and problems that any individual, irrespective of their physical stature, could face when venturing into the services sector.
But there was one thing that really bugged me—it was this man's disturbingly rushed judgement. I had barely begun to display any of my aforementioned struggles; the assumptions about my abilities were thus formed solely on my physical appearance. Not on my efforts, not on my work ethic, just on how I look.
The unjustness of the situation pierced my spirit and scarred me deeply. This heart-wrenching experience with prejudice carried its echo for a while afterward, an echo filled with injustice and harsh assumptions. It was an educated lesson in how appearances can drastically distort one's perception and judgement.
17. In Hot Water
Do you remember the absolute worst circumstance you've ever confronted? If you think you do, perhaps my story might just change your mind. You see, years back, I was just another employee at our local Waffle House. This late-night occurrence is so vividly etched in my memory that it feels like yesterday.
Typically, my work routine involved putting in my hours during the 6 pm to 2 am shift. This timeline inevitably attracts some night owls, the after-party crowd, or the ones who have had a few too many. Keeping my experience in mind, they're generally harmless and can even be entertaining.
However, one night was the exception. At the stroke of midnight, a man sauntered through our establishment's door, and he was far from ordinary. His shirt was haphazardly buttoned with the exception of the one that held his shirt together over his chest which, interestingly, was pinned three holes upward.
His attire was further made unique by the fact that he had inexplicably chosen to sport only one shoe. Upon spotting him, our chef, known for his no-nonsense demeanor, immediately determined this guy's presence was unwelcome. Retrospect makes me wish the man had just heeded this warning.
Because what he did next was an unusual and distressing spectacle. His form of protest was to scale the bar counter, quite a feat considering his state, and position himself right before me at the dishwashing sink.
What came next was an absolute shock—he decided it was the perfect time and place to undress, revealing his lack of undergarments. As anyone might, I reacted with profound haste and dismay. Searching for a way to protect myself and handle the situation, I instinctively turned to the hot water hose we used for rinsing the dishes.
It may sound dramatic, but when fueled by adrenaline, and astounded by the boldness of his actions, I directed the hose at his private area. As any chef can vouch for, this water temperature is no joke. This strategic move stopped him in his tracks as he doubled over in pain, screaming and holding his now injured area.
He lost his balance, crashing off the countertop, plummeting into a chair before tumbling towards the door, wincing in pain all the while. Following this unwarranted chaos and disturbance, we contacted the police. They arrived promptly, assessed the situation, and while perhaps exhibiting a touch too much humor, took his statement.
The man found himself headed not just to jail but also to the hospital for the injuries incurred. The icing on the cake was that I eventually discovered it took hundreds of hours of court-mandated community service to settle his tab at the Waffle House that night, thanks to charges of public intoxication and disturbing the peace.
18. She Was An Endless Stream Of Problems
Back when I was employed at a local ice stand, an incident occurred that etched itself into my memory. On a particularly bustling day, a line was snaking its way around the building, ripe with eager customers. Among them, a woman emerged with her two lively children.
Guiding her brood to the window, she went about placing an order for her daughter, and everything seemed to be moving as usual until her son abruptly announced his urgent need to relieve himself.
Now, instead of making use of the readily available restroom in our establishment, or even the inconspicuous tree just a few strides away, she opted to have him empty his bladder against the wall of our building. An unconventional choice, to say the least, and one that left a visual I'd rather forget.
While the mother was engaged in this atypical conduct, the queue was still expanding at a rapid pace. As an attempt to keep things moving, I began taking the next order, hoping to maintain our momentum. It was at this very moment when she hopped back in line, cutting off another patron who was already in the throes of ordering.
Noticing this breach in the line, I politely asked the woman for a moment to wrap up with the customer she had abruptly displaced. This lull seemed to stir an unanticipated storm in her—a sudden fury that painted her face in a vivid red.
Accusations began to roll off her tongue, loud and harsh, berating my professionalism and lamenting the quality of our customer care. I gently tried explaining the situation—that while she was aiding her son’s public bodily evacuation, I was merely trying to keep the business running smoothly.
True to form, she denied her son’s action and demanded to speak with my manager.
I complied, handing over his contact information along with my name for her reference. Surprisingly, this only seemed to stoke her rage further. Over a soundtrack of her continued tirade, I eventually managed to prepare her order. During this less than pleasant exchange, the others in the queue watched with quiet sympathy.
As the woman finally set off, each of them offered quiet apologies for her behaviour, reassuring me that they thought I had indeed been doing an excellent job.
Whether farcical, infuriating, or downright surreal, this marked one of the more memorable chapters in my career at the ice stand.
19. My Shift Was Turned Upside Down
A lively assembly of 10 good-humored souls waltzed on into my bar one evening. They were in the mood to let loose, have a few drinks, and enjoy some karaoke in celebration of a special birthday.
As they piled onto their reserved table, I began my usual routine: weaving around the table, engaging with each patron and making conversation while inquiring about their prefered drink choice. And so, I made my way towards the "birthday princess," who held a certain air of authority among the group.
She requested a drink menu to peruse, and I found myself explaining that while I could indeed serve her a vast array of brews, we didn't have an extensive cocktail list at the ready given the nature of our establishment—a modest, unpretentious dive bar.
Her eyes sparkled at an inquiry about beverages with pineapple, and I quickly pitched our staple Pineapple Upside-Down drink—it's a straightforward mixture of rum and pineapple that seldom disappoints.
However, our princess seemed lost in indecision at this point. Just as I was attempting to hasten the process by suggesting other pineapple-infused concoctions, a few other patrons got seated at a couple more tables, instantly adding to my workload.
I offered her the freedom to reimagine her perfect pineapple beverage, saying, "You can pretty much make your own drink". Her expression immediately turned sour, and I realized with sinking horror that I had clearly misspoke.
She had taken my suggestive words quite literally, boiling over in fury as she unjustly accused me of demanding that she whip up her own cocktail. Caught in the hurricane of her wrath, she ranted and raved about my supposed incompetence, peppering her words with inappropriate language.
Desperate to rectify the rapidly escalating situation, I hurriedly reassured her that we, of course, would craft her the perfect blend, beginning with a base spirit, then adding pineapple and whatever other fruits or liquids she desired. After a few tense moments, she finally agreed to order the Pineapple Upside-Down drink.
As the night wore on, I noticed how the rest of her party seemed markedly more relaxed. While they reveled in the music and merriment, our princess seemed unable to let go of the tension, silently protesting with cold, icy glares that felt as sharp as daggers.
When the time came to pack up and settle bills, I presented our princess with her own—just a tiny splurge of $5.01. As a strictly cash-only establishment, I took their payments and sought out if anyone required small change.
One by one, they demurred. And then, just when I thought trouble had passed, I looked at her paid bill: a $5 bill lay there, but the penny—the petty penny—was missing. It was clear our princess, still nursing her unwarranted anger, had decided to stiff me of a penny.
And so, the night ended on a sour note but served as the backdrop for a tale I'll always remember.
20. Mint Moocher
In my 15 years of professional experience spanning various roles within the hospitality industry, I've come across countless memorable events. But there is one incident that stands out, a situation so amusing, it's my absolute favorite to share.
During my tenure as a manager at a renowned steakhouse, there was a charming host who was in his early 20s. He was known for his quick wit and an even quicker tongue, his light-hearted banter always put a smile on our faces.
One evening, as one of our patrons was leaving, he made himself a little too comfortable with the free mints at the counter. Hugging around 50 mints to his chest like treasured possessions, it was quite a sight to behold. Not one to miss such an opportunity, our spirited host told the gentleman, in his unique jovial fashion, to 'Enjoy the mints'!
The comment, intended as good-natured humor, seemed to have hit the man's wrong nerve—he erupted into an explosive rage, yelling and using language not suitable for a family-friendly environment.
Humming along with my managerial duties at the front of the restaurant, I was alerted to an escalating situation. As I approached the fray, I spotted our usual jovial host exchanging words with a gentleman, dressed in semi-formal attire, clutching a veritable treasure trove of our complimentary mints.
My young host stood firm with a self-satisfied grin on his face, firmly saying, "No, I'm not apologizing". Confused but committed, I approached the disgruntled patron, doing my best to offer assistance despite my bafflement at the situation.
Barely managing to keep the mints from spilling all over the floor, the infuriated man demanded an apology from the host. Concerned about the escalating situation, I asked him to lower his voice and let me talk with the host to get his side of the story. The host, unabashedly, admitted that he had cheekily told the man to 'Enjoy the mints'!
The patron's response was purely theatrical. His face was a blotchy red, every nerve taut with frustration. His arms seemed to wobble under his minty treasure, the sweets threatening to rain down any moment. I must admit, it was hard to keep a straight face.
Fighting the urge to laugh, I managed to say to the fuming patron, "Sir, please enjoy your mints". Which, as you might rightly guess, did not have a calming effect. He stormed out of our establishment, clouds of rage following him out the door.
Unbelievably, he went as far as to contact the corporate office, triggering an uncomfortable conversation with my boss. We were written up, and eventually had to give the man and his wife a complimentary meal as a form of a meek apology.
And as for our nickname for the incident? We lovingly refer to it as the 'SlamminSumBs' episode. All in all, it was a minty fresh lesson in maintaining our composure amidst the most unexpected events.
21. Goodbye And Tallyho
One evening, as we were preparing to close the tavern, a calm descended. Only the bar counter was still sprinkled with a few lingering customers. I found myself comfortably perched at the far end of the bar, letting my weary feet take a breather.
My friend, who also doubles as the manager and bartender, was bustling around behind the counter, wrapping up the night. A stone's throw away from me, a gentleman and an elderly British lady sat engaged in somewhat tipsy conversation.
Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the bar, a pair of our hardworking cooks were sharing light banter in their native Spanish, successfully winding down after a long day.
However, the picture of tranquility was soon disrupted. The elderly British lady, heavily under the influence, launched into a seemingly unprovoked tirade of racial insult directed at the cooks. Having had too much alcohol, she brazenly declared, "This is not your country. Return to where you truly belong. You guys are utterly worthless."
Unable to stand by and witness such bigotry, my anger sparked. Not one to tolerate prejudice, I felt it my responsibility to address the situation. I remember the fury in my veins as I rose to challenge her.
"What gives you the right to presume you're superior to someone else?" I challenged, matching her insult with zeal. "You, too, are an immigrant, making your disrespect immensely hypocritical!"
Caught off guard, she responded to my rebuke with an unintelligible slur of words. Ignoring her attempts at a comeback, I maintained my ground. I sternly instructed her to evacuate the premises and spare us her further presence. So ended a night that began in tranquility, but was unfortunately marred by intolerance.
22. Crying Over Fried Rice
Once upon a time, I worked as a waitress at a combo gas station and diner. An incident occurred there which is ingrained in my mind to this day. A burly trucker took offense that his customary rice pilaf was prepared with an alternative choice of rice instead of the typical white variety.
Indignant, he responded in what can only be described as an incredible overreaction. In his fit of temper, he proceeded to unleash his wrath upon me, my coworker, and the on-duty chef. He caused a spectacle in our otherwise cheerful joint packed with patrons—creating an atmosphere of needless tension and hostility.
The brunt of his fury was directed at my brave coworker. She refused to entertain his absurd tantrums. Having ordered two servings of rice, he found a ludicrous reason to throw fits about each of them.
This ordeal could have been quickly diffused by merely replacing his side of rice. Nevertheless, it appeared as if this disgruntled patron was more interested in berating the chef about his unappealing culinary artistry in front of a bustling crowd of customers.
23. Wet And Wild
They began to chuckle, but I found myself in tears. I explained to them just how awful this woman had been. Normally, I'd join them in laughter, but this time I just couldn't. As I shared my experiences with my boss, I could see his temper rising until he finally demanded, "Where is she?”
We exited the kitchen and I indicated where she was. He stormed straight towards her. I have no clue about the words exchanged, but the outcome was him guiding her out. The guests who had overheard the whole episode clapped in approval.
24. I Wanted To Deck Them
We certainly had one bustling, lively evening on the patio. It was completely taken over by a large party, a kind of family celebration from the looks of it. When one looks out on such a scene of chirping revelry and warm conviviality, there's a contagious joy that spreads through the air.
The trailing sounds of laughter, the intimate stories shared across tables, the quiet background hum of chinks from cutlery and drinks—that is the symphony of a bustling restaurant at the peak of its rhythm.
As the spacious patio could not accommodate them entirely, we even had to rope in tables from another server’s section. The orders kept rolling in, from appetizers to desserts, cocktails to coffee, they savored every bit and piece from our menu.
My eyes turned into saucers seeing their bill cross the $800 mark! For a looooong seven-hour stretch, they reveled in our humble abode, their merriment serenading my entire shift.
The atmosphere, however, soon turned gloomy as they finished their meal. While stacking up empty glasses and cleaning up the crumbles of their party, I found out they had left me high and dry.
Not a penny was offered as a tip! My heart sank and silent tears formed queues on my cheeks as I was left to clean their monumental mess alone. Adding insult to injury, since I was obligated to tip out a percentage of their bill to the kitchen and bar team, my day's earnings plummeted well below the minimum wage.
Compassion and empathy came pouring in from my colleagues who had also weathered such frustrations. They related their tales of hardship, unfair treatment and, ironically, it didn’t soothe the pain.
Instead, it hammered home the reality of how common such instances were. I was left sitting in the alleyway of frustrations, pondering over the bitter truth of our industry and the professional challenges we servers face every day. It was a tough pill to swallow, and it lingered, leaving a sour taste.
25. Clinging To The Vine
Once upon a time, I held a job at a charming little vineyard. Among the fields of grapevines and wine-tasting events, we often attracted some rambunctious folks through our doors.
Limos would arrive, carrying these groups ready for a bit of merry-making. Typically, though, their level of intoxication would have already crossed beyond acceptable limits. Our policy held clear: the vineyard is certainly no bar, and we could not accommodate guests who were overly intoxicated.
From time to time, the assigned manager would have to step away from the entrance. This temporary steering wheel unattended, the "merry" contingents often took it as their cue to sneak in.
Once, when this happened, I found myself in a tricky situation. Brass-tacks: I had to walk up to one such visitor, summon courage, and break it to her politely but firmly—they had journeyed a bit too far down their inebriation pathway to remain in the vineyard.
Let's just say her response didn't sit well with me. Emphatically put, she stated, "I'm not going anywhere," as if this were a rhetorical rebuttal. I attempted to reason, explaining that our staff wouldn’t serve her any more alcohol, and any further attempts to press the issue would be futile.
I informed her that her refusal to leave in the next five minutes would lead to the involvement of the police. Seemingly undeterred, her disbelief stared right back at me. I immediately dialed the local police officer who was on-call. I told her, "The police are on their way. Would you prefer to leave on your own terms and salvage some dignity?"
With that, I set about getting the limo's plate number for the impending police report. Lo and behold, my unwelcome guest followed me, making a beeline for our back office. What she did next had my blood boiling. With an uncalled-for show of aggression, she pushed me into a filing cabinet, bellowing out "WE AREN'T LEAVING!"
Fortunately, her group soon returned, pulling her away, and made a hasty exit in their limo. The police officer arrived moments later. I handed over the plate number, hoping for nothing but a well-deserved scare for our rowdy visitors.
Reminiscing over this incident, I couldn't help but shake my head in disbelief. All this cacophonic drama unfolded over a single precious glass of wine, an event that repeats at least three to five times a year in our humble vineyard.
26. Holiday Humbugs
During the festive season, the jingle bells Christmas day was wrapping up and everyone was in the throes of tidying up, eagerly anticipating their journey home after an early cleanup. Just when we thought the day was free of any more ventures, the sudden ring of the telephone echoed through the cafe.
An incoming family was on the loose and they were on their way in. They placed a rather last-minute request for a full meal, just half an hour before we were due to close. This entailed assembling a tray overflowing with a pre-meal array of hot tea and crunchy biscuits, a delicious routine tradition for all our guests.
To complicate matters a bit, their chosen seat was positioned at the farthest possible corner from our beverage prep station. This implied the longest and most arduous walk of the cafe—from one end to the other.
As I juggled unpredictably against the clock, the unimaginable ensued. Like an unexpected gust of wind, my feet got swept off the ground and I found myself sprawled in an unexpected mess of piping hot tea and scattered shards of porcelain.
As I picked myself up against the surge of embarrassment and pain, I made my way to the haven of our kitchen to tend to my numerous cuts. Luckily, I had an arsenal of smiley-faced Elastoplasts to cover up the small wounds and cease the bleeding.
Once patched up, I faced the task of quick cleaning. I proceeded to wipe my blood from the walls, refill the tray once again, and prepare myself to retrace the long and now somewhat daunting path across the café. The customers watched with a strange smirk as I placed the recovered tray in front of them.
To add to the ordeal, after serving them with a hot meal as they requested and enduring such an episode, they left without expressing gratitude or leaving a tip.
27. Bad Vibes
There was a man, completely enveloped in his own world of anger, out on a date with a woman who projected an aura of timidness. As their helpful server, my role was to provide them with their food and drinks, but even during that brief interaction, I could tangibly feel the tension hanging in the space between them like an unwelcome visitor.
There was a sort of invisible barrier hinting towards a conflict brewing, the energy bouncing off the man felt like a warning sign telling me to keep my distance.
In the middle of their servings, the silence was interrupted when I approached them again to ensure everything was up to their satisfaction. The lady's eyes were glassy as if she was on the brink of releasing a storm of tears.
The body language of her companion, meanwhile, was practically shouting for me to keep my distance. His intense vibes were clearly a silent plea for me to leave their table, leaving me slightly unnerved.
Despite this tension, I continued on with my duty, returning once more towards the end of their meal to offer drinks and dessert. The man's face had turned into a deep shade of red, giving away his absolute annoyance at yet another interruption. He dropped a shocking line, threatening me for my audacity to disturb their table.
"Bring me the bill right now," he hissed, "and if you dare disturb us again, I'm not afraid to use this blade on you." He brandished the steak knife he held in his right hand and a cold shiver ran down my spine. I quickly darted a look at his counterpart, but her gaze remained glued to the table, refusing to make eye contact with either me or him.
Needless to say, I was shaken but quickly brought them their check before speeding away to serve other customers. Their departure left a distinct void in the bustling environment of the restaurant, a void where a nerve-wracking experience had occurred.
But at that moment, relief washed over me to see them finally leave, hoping that the woman's situation would improve in the coming days.
28. What A Cheap Puck
In the past, I had a job at a unique bar and restaurant that was conveniently situated inside a buzzing hockey arena. It was an exceptional spot, imbued with the lively spirit of the game, and was enhanced by the magnificent team of people I worked with.
The place was also known as the home base for an Ontario Hockey League (OHL) team that went under a little while back. As glamorous as it sounds to be closely associated with a hockey team, the reality was a little different.
The young hockey players, mostly between the ages of 18 and 20, would frequent our establishment after their games. Unfortunately, they were far from ideal customers. Despite not having much money, they strutted around like they owned the place, which proved to be quite a nuisance.
One particular night, an incident occurred that remains etched in my mind. The spotlight was on one player who was considered among the top five prospects for the National Hockey League (NHL). After their game, he strolled in, ordered a pizza, gobbled it down, and subsequently hustled out when I wasn't looking.
I approached the deserted table, naively assuming he had left the cash for his bill discreetly on the table. However, much to my surprise, he had left behind not money, but five worthless promotional hockey cards that the team had handed out that very night.
When I relayed this to the manager, he initially responded by saying that I would need to cover the $12 for the pizza bill. From my perspective, a 24-year-old waiter, this felt outrageously unfair. Why should I have to foot the bill for a young man who was on the verge of signing a potentially lucrative NHL contract?
In a display of protest, I threw a rather sizable tantrum. After a bit of back-and-forth, my manager reluctantly agreed to void the charge. In a twist of fate, the young man eventually made it to the NHL and found quite a bit of success there. In retrospect, maybe I should've paid for that pizza.
It would have been a short-term investment of $12 for a signed card worth quite a bit more today.
29. Holiday Heartbreak
A once buzzing beach town, filled with eateries for every taste, banked on exotic seafood. The one where I took up a job was renowned for its fresh and flavorful dishes, invariably bustling with patrons. On an unforgettable night, a family on holiday walked in: a father, a mother, and their two little sons of about seven years old.
Their presence raised my eyebrows right away, giving me an odd feeling that might not be rewarded with a tip from their table. As customary, I approached them, introducing our night's signature cocktail. The woman was quick to order it, beaming with an unhealthy excitement that was abruptly cut short by her husband's stern whispers.
I refrained from making any premature judgment, returning to their table with the ordered drink. But, the sight that met my eyes left me taken aback. The realization hit me hard and sudden; the lady was excessively intoxicated.
Without making it obvious, I served her a placebo drink to avoid worsening her drunken condition. Throughout the meal, I also noticed her slyly sipping from a hip flask. Her husband, on the other hand, was engaging in a discreet yet futile attempt to dab her doused spirits.
It didn't take long for their little boys to sense the off vibe, their merry faces turning into a mask of worry and discomfort. Reticence hung heavy in the air as the words from the children ceased and all of them started to steal glances at the floor. The woman's flagging sobriety only continued spiraling down.
Swiftly, the husband, deciding to cut their evening short, asked for all their food to be packed. I hastily did as asked, they settled their bill, and attempted to leave, the mother’s whereabouts now a mystery.
In her disoriented state, instead of following her family towards the exit, she wound up venturing into the belly of our kitchen. The father, assuming she was behind him, lead their children out. I found myself in the difficult position of having to call him back and inform him, in front of the children, about their mother being in the staff area.
Heartbreaking as it was, one of the young boys asked, "Why does she do this, daddy?" The situation had me choked with sympathy for the man and his sons. Managing to guide his wayward wife out of the kitchen, they finally made their exit.
The sight, etched forever in their and my memory, marked an earnest reminder of human flaws and the pain they can cause.
30. Looking For Trouble
For three engaging years, I was in the thick of things as a waiter, expertly handling customers while effortlessly juggling my responsibilities. On one seemingly ordinary evening, I found myself serving a table where guests appeared to be genuinely having a good time.
I was on top of my duties that night—swift in service, courteous in communication, ensuring each patron's need was promptly attended. When I politely asked them about their dining experience, I received a bubbling stream of positive and appreciative comments.
As their dining experience was in full swing, there came a sudden twist. While I had momentarily stepped away from the table, one of the customers decided to speak directly to a manager. Surprisingly, the conversation was all about me.
Quite shockingly, the demand she made was ruthless—she was calling for my immediate dismissal. And the reasons she cited? Flimsy fabrications borne out of what I could only interpret as malice.
Moreover, she leaned on her own background in the food industry to lend credibility to her view, as if this amplified her capacity to judge my competency.
Had it not been for the empathetic manager on duty that night, I might have faced catastrophic repercussions. In a surprising turn of events, the woman's charges were given the deference of discounting her entire meal.
And the cherry on top of it all? I was denied my hard-earned gratuity. Every time I revisit this unpleasant memory, I can't help but feel a sting of resentment.
I can't shake the bitter feeling that their night out was designed with a sinister sub-goal in mind: to manipulate a simple dining experience into a ploy to cost a waiter their job. It was a night that tested my patience and resilience, a stark reminder of the dual nature of the service industry.
It made me appreciate the supportive team I was part of, who stood by me when the tables were unexpectedly, unfairly turned against me.
31. Discount Divas
Let me tell you a story about an extraordinary dinner service I had one evening. During a bustling dinner shift, I served a group of six customers, composed of two younger couples and an older duo. As soon as they sat down, I could tell they were a curious bunch.
This group seemed to have question after question before even glancing at the menu. Once they finally dived into the menu and had their orders in, the meals were brought out promptly, with not a single complaint initially.
Despite them being more demanding than an average table, I managed to keep up with their frequent refill and special requests.
Fast forward to the end of their meal, one of the ladies in the group handed me one of our “Buy one, get one 50% off” coupons. On top of this, she requested that their bill is split into three different checks.
Her assumption was that the coupon would apply to all the split checks. I gently explained that each check would need its own coupon to receive the discount.
Upon hearing my response, she pointed out her interpretation of the "One per check" clause on the coupon. She believed she was correct and requested to speak to a manager about the issue. I complied and brought our manager to the table. The manager reiterated my point, leading to visible dissatisfaction on her face.
But hold on, it wasn't over yet.
Suddenly, the older gentleman in the group announced that he was a military veteran and that he didn't receive his supposed veteran’s discount. Our restaurant, however, doesn’t offer any such discount. Wishing to quell the frustration and see them off, the manager granted a 10% discount on the veteran's bill, pacifying him momentarily.
His satisfaction was short-lived, as he voiced his displeasure at the discount not being applied to the entire table. In a fit, he declared, "I go to Waffle House and get 15% off my whole bill".
As he said this, the group stood up, causing quite a scene in the middle of our upscale dining establishment, far more sophisticated than the Waffle House he compared us with. Their loud objection was directed at me and my manager, agitating the whole room.
Clearly making a spectacle of themselves, the upset lady got so close I could feel her breath, puffing out her chest as she called me an idiot. She accused me of not applying any discount to her bill.
To avoid a more escalating argument which could spill into unpleasantries, I chose to walk away and regain my calm at the back of the restaurant.
Once there, I was shaking with frustration. My General Manager noticed and was dismissive, instead of supportive. He warned me to get a grip, and a surge of sadness welled up in me.
I felt mistreated, dropped my serving tray, and exited the kitchen, distressed. Post this fiasco, the other manager briefed the general manager about the course of events, however, nothing ever changed.
Post settling their bills, the manager handed me their credit slip. To my absolute disappointment, for a bill amounting to $120, there was no tip. Let's say, it was a night I was utterly taken aback and couldn't hide my shock.
32. Opening Day
The day our bar threw open its doors for the first time, was nothing short of a roller-coaster ride. We were surrounded by a sea of customers in high spirits, ready to enjoy a night out. The heart of our operations, a spanking new point of sale system, was supposed to keep everything on track.
Sadly, it turned out to be a significant let-down.
We pooled in our kitchen staff, but the unusually high customer demand blindsided them. As the assistant manager, I was in the eye of the storm, managing not only the 24-seat bar but also catering to the needs of the servers' tables. Just when I was juggling all of these tasks, I encountered a huge, burly man with a request—an order for wings.
The cumbersome point-of-sale system kept tripping up, and to make matters worse, my concentration was constantly being interrupted by incessant queries from staff. The man further complicated matters by requesting a new channel on the TV positioned right before him.
Navigate a labyrinth of 42 different TV sets and remotes to find the right one? Not the easiest task, let me assure you. Just as I was managing to keep these balls in the air, he lobbed in another request: extra sauce for his wings. While I was navigating the intricacies of our bar, I forgot about his demand for a channel change.
Evidently, this did not sit well with him.
It was like lighting the fuse on a firecracker—the man blew up instantly. He shot up from his seat and his roaring voice silenced the lively chatter around the bar. He voiced his disgruntlement with words bouncing off the walls, "Worst experience! You guys are horrendous!"
Despite my attempts to pacify the customers by reminding them that we were navigating the speed-breakers of our first day and requesting their patience, he didn’t let up.
This incident was my snapping point. That night, I decided that I could no longer continue in that tumultuous environment. Thus ended my stint at the bar.
33. Trouble Was Brewing
Once upon a time, I worked in this bustling, lively restaurant, with the weekends being especially challenging, almost testing the limits of one's sanity. Imagine entertaining over 250 guests for dinner each night, where the place was jam-packed, vibrant with energy until the last guest would leave.
We had a systematic approach; each waiter was assigned their own specific area. The arrangement got complicated by one particular space: it was larger and accommodated two servers compared to the single-server areas elsewhere in the restaurant.
On one fateful Saturday night, we found ourselves down on our staff numbers, which was unusual yet manageable. Given this situation, my manager, being confident in my abilities, placed me alone to manage this vast area that typically required two waiters.
This was not my first rodeo yet still posed as a challenge, especially with the influx of customers. This area contained two round tables—one could seat six, and the other four—both occupied by families.
As the night progressed and with the increasing number of patrons entering, my domain grew busier, thus slowing down my service. Naturally, these families had to endure longer wait times for their meals.
Wanting to keep the situation cordial and understanding, I made it a point to apologize and explain the circumstances to each table. And they did, all of them radiating understanding and kindness—except the patriarch of one of the families seated on the round table.
Hooked on alcohol for the evening and intoxicated beyond measure, his demeanor started shifting, his tolerance fading with every sighting of me. As his family waited for their dessert, this gentleman decided to test my patience by taking a rather unexpected and shocking turn.
I was tending to the family seated next, serving them their food, when out of nowhere, he stood up and deliberately spilled his pint of beer onto me. It took me a moment to process the bizarreness of the situation, to rally my thoughts, to respond effectively.
My saving grace came in the form of one of our bold bartenders, who had witnessed this entire debacle. Without missing a beat, he rocketed towards this inebriated man, almost quite literally ejecting him from the restaurant. What could have been an absolute nightmare lightened up a bit by the empathy and consolation from the other guests.
The silver lining? The other tables felt profoundly sympathetic toward me, alleviating their concerns regarding the delays on ticket times.
34. He Created A "Hostel" Environment
I once held a position at a rather inviting bar in a busy hostel, which welcomed a diverse range of guests from all walks of life. The most unforgettable negative encounter ties back to a lively British chap.
Traveling solo, he decided to perch himself at the bar where he managed to strike up a conversation with a couple of fellow nomads. At first glance, he appeared to be quite the character, instigating bouts of laughter, and he quickly became a focal point in the bustling bar.
After setting up his running tab, he turned generous benefactor, generously buying round after round for himself and his newfound friends. However, as the night wore on, the more he drank, the less coherent and more sloppy he became.
A swift turn of events saw the once charming man grow rowdy and raucous, berating his drinking companions for what he termed their 'lightweight' approach.
His antics continued, intensifying with each passing moment. In between his shouts, he was munching on snacks, most of which ended up scattered on the floor, necessitating a cleanup from my end.
Further adding to the unfolding chaos, he accidentally smashed at least four glasses that were in use by other patrons, one of which was amongst our more upscale offerings.
My patience began to wear thin, having already issued several words of caution in his direction. During a brief interlude, he retired to his room, rendering himself unconscious for a half-hour interval.
His bar tab was still open, and his credit card in my custody. Upon his return, he'd clearly forgotten a crucial step in dressing—wearing his underwear. As he bent over the bar counter requesting yet another drink, his bare backside was unwittingly on display for all present.
Rather than indulge his request, I provided him with a glass of water and gently suggested he call it a night. He promptly bristled at my recommendation and insisted on a whiskey refill. He argued that he had overspent already, and another drink was justified. I gently pointed out that his tab was still unpaid.
Submitting to his insistence, I swiped his card for the due amount, which totaled close to 100€, and handed over the card machine for him to enter his PIN.
By this stage, my frustration levels were at an all-time high. All I wanted was to send him on his way. In my distracted state, I missed the payment error notice. It was not until a chat with my manager the next day that I became aware of the failed transaction.
Fortunately, given our hostel setup, we had access to his registration details, which helped us secure the money for his unsettled bar tab. Let's just say, even in an accommodating hostel-bar environment there are limits to what's acceptable behavior or, as some may say, "no chucks given for such antics."
35. All Tricks No Treats
During my time in college, I worked at a modest, charming restaurant in a tight-knit, small-town in Texas. Our specialty was undoubtedly Texas-Style chicken-fried steak, a delectable delicacy that the locals couldn't seem to get enough of.
As it happened, I drew the short straw and found myself scheduled to work on Halloween night when my friends were busy gallivanting around town, immersing themselves the lively atmosphere of holiday festivity.
Indeed, the evening was anticipated to be an energetic one, yet my shift was marked by near silence, disturbed by only a few dedicated patrons. The restaurant was unusually quiet that evening, with only a scarce number of tables to attend to.
Amidst the tranquility, I could almost hear the tantalizing fun my friends were surely having playing out in my mind.
Towards the end of my shift, just as I was about to turn the key in the lock, a brash family stormed the premises. Their group comprised of eight individuals, each boasting a louder personality than the last. They inhabited the restaurant as if it were their personal space, tactful manners nowhere in sight.
Amongst this boisterous band, a figure that etched itself into my memory was a man garbed in a Fred Flintstone costume. His odd culinary preference involved drowning his perfectly cooked steak in a sea of ketchup and soy sauce.
The bunch was obnoxious, demanding, and worst of all, overly loud without any cause. Their carefree commotion seemed to echo through the emptiness of the dainty restaurant I had come to too appreciate.
However, being the dedicated waiter, I kept my complaints to myself and served these impolite individuals, their two-hour-long dinner session seemed to last an eternity.
When they finally decided to vacate the premise, they decided to leave behind a highly unacceptable token of appreciation for my service on the table — a grimy, soiled diaper and a smattering of small change.
With the unsettling image, their departure did little to restore the serenity of the evening. It's nights like those that can put out the spark in one’s eye, but I've learned to roll with the punches and keep my chin up. 'Twas just another day at work.
36. She Had A Long List Of Problems
It was during the festive season of Christmas, and I found myself serving a particularly challenging customer. She had placed an order, extensive enough to fill one and a half pages, and she wasn't willing to understand that such a long list of dishes would naturally take time to be prepared.
Certainly, they wouldn't be sent out before the beverages and the appetizers. Not even a quarter of an hour had passed, and every time I came within the vicinity of her table, she demanded attention.
She would capture the fabric of my apron, fiercely demand a rendezvous with a manager, or directly question my ability to perform my job effectively. The actions were ghastly enough to make her family, who accompanied her, blush in embarrassment.
The situation grew worse when the food was served. She immediately commenced a barrage of complaints, pointing out perceived defects with every dish. When I took out the decidedly long order ticket she had given — a detailed list for a surf and turf feast — I did my best to explain and justify every item on her platter.
This, however, resulted in her losing all composure. She shouted, demanding to meet the manager once again, all while hitting the table dramatically and even sending her plate crashing to the floor.
Ultimately, her husband found himself compelled to intervene, physically restraining her and escorting her out of the restaurant as she continued to make a scene.
Getty Images
37. Finger Licking Fool
At the tender age of 16, I landed an after-school job at the local Kentucky Fried Chicken, a popular spot in our small Texas town. I found myself one evening working the counter during a particularly busy shift. Families were hustling in and out, lining up to order their meals.
While this job was usually straightforward, on this evening I found myself involved in an incident I could've never imagined.A customer approached the counter, placed his order for his dinner just like every other customer did, and then handed me a check to pay.
For context, this was a time when people still regularly used checks, and it was normal to receive one, most people would just jot down the total amount for their bill. I proceeded as usual, ringing up his meal, slotting his check into the cash register, and closing the drawer without double-checking the check–an oversight I would soon regret.
Caught off-guard, the man suddenly announced, "Hold up, hold up, darling! I am supposed to receive some change back from you!" I shot him a questioning look, and he proceeded to tear into me with a ferocity that left me stunned.
In front of the bustling restaurant, he bellowed about the traveler's check for $100 he had handed me, claiming he was owed some change back. Trying to maintain my composure, I politely clarified that I hadn't been aware that he'd given me a traveler's check instead of a personal check.
Now, it's noteworthy to mention that we didn't accept traveler's checks at our restaurant, so imagine my shock when he insisted on his change. I told him I would have to get the manager to open up the register to return the check back to him.
You see, at that age and in our small town, I had never even seen a traveler's check. So naturally, I was a bit perplexed at his aggressive approach over this unexpected situation.
The encounter took a turn when the man looked me straight in the eyes and launched the insult, "God, you are so stupid". Now, I've been called many things in my life, and certainly dealt with difficult situations, but being called stupid is not one I take lightly.
Summoning my courage, I stared him down, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, and suggested loudly that he should "take a hike". This declaration echoed through the room, and a hush fell over the entire restaurant as everyone, employees and customers, including my manager, stood frozen and watched the encounter unravel.
But to my surprise, I never heard another word about this incident, no scolding or reprimanding later on either.
38. Read The Room—We’re Busy!
In the heart of the hustle and bustle of my shift, I spotted a forty-something woman, built considerably with well-rounded features. She was perched alone at one of my tables, deeply engrossed in a thick novel that seemed to transport her to another world.
Sensing my presence, she looked up from her book and our eyes met. I promptly moved to greet her, curious and eager to make my new guest comfortable.
She informed me pleasantly that she was expecting another guest, but that she felt like starting the evening with a cocktail. It was her alone time before the arrival of her company, and she wanted to make the most of it.
I updated her that our bar was unexpectedly slammed and she might have to wait a tad longer for her drink. However, she nodded understandingly towards me.
Eventually, I managed to deliver her drink as the second chair remained empty. However, her peaceful demeanour shifted as she inquired about the delay for her cocktail. Displaying the sincerity in my apology, I explained about the unusually high demand at the bar. Following her response, I excused myself to check on my other guests.
Returning after a couple of minutes with a sense of curiosity, I asked her how she was. I could sense something seemed amiss. It was her requested change—she was unhappy with her drink and decided to try another.
Her expression stated, "I hope the second one doesn't take as long as the first!" I assured her, choosing my words carefully, that despite the bar's busyness, I would aim to serve her new drink sooner.
Her companion was still missing when I returned with her order. Seemingly resigned to the late arrival, she relinquished the wait and proceeded to order her diner. Thankfully, her meal was prepared smoothly and correctly and she seemed satisfied.
Upon her request, I swiftly brought over the check for her to complete her evening. She quickly handed over her credit card, settled the amount and took her leave.
To my dismay, she had left a zero tip. I scanned the table, hoping to discover some hidden cash, but my search was in vain. However, her weighty novel was left behind. Seeing it as an opportunity, I decided to have a small act of revenge.
Retreating to a covert corner of the kitchen with the book firmly clutched in my hands, I gently ripped out its final chapter. It was as Elizabeth Gilbert says, "Ruin is the road to transformation."
As she returned looking slightly flustered but relieved to find her book, I passed it back to her. Wearing a content smile on my face, I wished her a lovely evening. She had unwittingly gifted me a pinch of silent vindication, a momentary but potent consolation for the absence of her tip.
39. They Were A Special Breed Of Rude
At the age of 16, I landed my first job as a server at Friendly's. The environment was a mix of learning and fun, but one particular experience continues to be etched in my memory.
One day, I had the task of attending to a large group of around 10 individuals. Amongst them, there were two counselors and the remaining eight were special needs adults.
After making my initial introduction to this unique group, I was abruptly interrupted by one of the counselors who informed me that all of his charges wanted Cokes. He instructed me to bring an extra cup of ice so they could pour the refreshing beverages a little at a time. I didn't see this as an issue.
Returning to the table, I balanced two trays bearing eight gleaming glasses, each filled to the brim with fizzy Coke and eight glasses of ice. An unforeseen incident occurred as one of the clients, visibly delighted at the sight of the drinks, extended his arm and caught hold of mine fervently.
The consequent upset of balance led to the colas scattering onto the floor to a symphony of laughter coming from the clients at the table. Unfortunately, the counselor didn't share the group's amusement. Instead, he chastised me to be more cautious.
Having cleared up the fizzy mess and taken down the food preferences—which were replete with dietary restrictions — I thought I had navigated the ups and downs smoothly. However, I was mistaken. Yet again, the same enthusiastic client tried to grab my arm as I bustled around, bringing the food to the table.
Although this time I was nimble enough to dodge his grasp, the counselor wasn't too pleased. He admonished me with a warning to "watch yourself" as if I had done something wrong.
After finishing their meals, the group prepared to go back. As they were leaving, the counselor gave me a shockingly tiny tip of just 72 cents on an $80 bill! As if such a meager tip wasn't hard enough, he grabbed my arm on his way out to reveal, somewhat apathetically, "Someone peed the seat. Wear gloves when you clean it up".
Over the years, I've been part of a multitude of diverse and interesting experiences, working in various restaurants. However, this incident at Friendly's continues to stand as my worst serving memory due to the unparalleled levels of disrespect and poor customer behavior.
The tale remains a vivid reminder of how a job that seems ordinary can sometimes expose us to extra challenges and teach valuable life lessons, such as patience and resilience.
40. Finally Free
Back in the early 1990s, there was this unique couple who frequented the coffee shop I worked at. At that time, smoking was still allowed in the eateries of my state. The husband was in his mid-fifties and the wife was somewhere in her seventies, wheelchair-bound due to some health problems.
Pretty unforgettable characters, I must confess. They certainly left an impression and not in a good way. Their free-spirited disregard for hygiene was evident from a mile away: they were consistently scruffy, emanated a distinctive odor, and were notorious for their lack of couth in public.
The man’s cleanliness, or rather the lack thereof, was overwhelmingly noticeable. He seldom washed or changed his clothes, and brushing teeth was completely off his personal maintenance agenda. Every time he approached the counter to clear his minimal coffee bills, his unpleasant odors had a stomach-churning effect on me.
His wife, always seen in a worn-out housecoat and slippers, glanced over with despondent, tear-filled eyes. Alarmingly, her medical state was quite visible to onlookers. Attached to her wheelchair, you'd see a catheter with a transparent urine bag swinging by her side.
The husband would often deposit her at a café table, buy her coffee, and then vanish for a couple of hours or longer. Despite their oddities, I attempted to maintain a welcoming aura around them, though their lack of social decorum frequently agitated me. It gets weirder.
The wife was in a constant cycle of sorrow broken by furious outbursts towards anyone who dared to offer her assistance. So we stuck to our standard procedure: maintaining a steady supply of coffee and hoping her catheter bag would not overflow.
Their eating habits were almost non-existent, but they were relatively harmless, and they usually picked the quieter periods to visit our café. My manager, considering their benign antics as trivial, never felt the pressing need to address their presence or routine.
When our state installed the smoking-ban in all eating establishments, their visits abruptly ceased, and I have not seen them since.
Keeping it clean, but also authentic and real—just another day in the life of a barista during the early 90s, chronicling the tale of this unusual couple—a seeming tribute to Dickens' eccentric characters in real life.
41. Wedding Woes
I remember an incident with a customer who had a rather ambitious cake order during the peak of summer. She requested a full-sized wedding cake, lavishly layered with soft, fluffy whipped cream. Now, anyone who is well-versed with foods would know, summer and whipped cream don't exactly mix well.
Absolutely no prizes for guessing what happened next—the heat of the scorching summer sun took its toll and, as expected, the whipped cream couldn't stand up to Mother Nature's furnace.
The whipped cream, now a sorry, melty mess, seeped down into the box, damaging it in the process. The aftermath wasn't pretty. The gooey remnants of the once-fluffy cream had spread all over her backseat. She was indignant about it, to say the least. Now, here's the hilarious part. Seething with rage, she turned to me, apparently expecting some sort of cake resurrection miracle.
It was puzzling considering that I am anything but a cake decorator. Her annoyance escalated when I couldn't wave a magic wand and restore the cake to its former glory. She ended up demanding a face-off with the manager, in the hope that perhaps he might possess the cake-saving abilities that I apparently lacked.
The manager calmly faced the irate customer, listening to her rant with a patient ear. He then, with an air of incredulousness, questioned her. He wanted to know why she hadn't bothered to provide easier access to her backseat when I was doing the Herculean task of lifting and maneuvering a heavy, full-sized cake into the limited space.
The ironic footnote to the whole incident—she didn't end up getting a discount.
42. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Cheese
In my time as a waiter, one experience stands out vividly, involving a guest who had a penchant for gourmet cheeses. This customer requested a cheese platter to complement a bottle of fine wine.
The platter, quite sizable, showcased a gorgeous array of cheeses, each promising a unique taste adventure. Some of these cheeses were of exceptionally high quality, and, as you can imagine, were accompanied by a comparable price tag.
I presented the platter to the lady, setting it carefully in front of her. Then, she inquired about the different varieties of cheese featured on the platter. Now, as I mentioned earlier, this assortment was vast and varied.
Although their descriptions were meticulously written down on the menu cards, she seemed more inclined towards a verbal explanation. I racked my brains, managing to remember and name only a handful of the cheeses.
The guest, evidently, was not too pleased with my lack of thorough knowledge. She rolled her eyes, exuding a palpable aura of disappointment. Undeterred, she pressed on, questioning if I knew the origins of those cheeses and the process by which they were made.
I had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that I was devoid of such knowledge. I was met with a harsh critique from her for my perceived ignorance about the items I served.
However, the story doesn't end there. She escalated the matter further by lodging a complaint with the restaurant's manager about my 'indifference towards understanding what I serve'.
In a desperate bid to redeem myself, I went to seek help from the usually irritable resident chef. Unfortunately, my plight was to no avail, as his knowledge regarding the cheeses was no better than mine.
43. Pasta Prima Donna
I returned to the lady's table to inform her that we didn't carry the dish she wanted. Her response was quite dramatic—she began yelling at me, claiming that I had spoiled her Mother’s Day, all because I wasn't aware we didn’t serve gnocchi. I got why she might be a bit annoyed with me.
Admittedly, I should've been familiar with that. However, she could've taken a glance at the menu herself.
44. Facebook Fiend
Once upon a Christmas, I found myself amidst a flurry of guests. My role was that of a server, and one particular gentleman of some years, caught up in the holiday rush, required my attention. I treated him with the same respect and service I would provide to any customer, without any deviations from my typical routine.
Unfortunately, fate wasn't in my favor that day. The proficient team that attended to the kitchen made an error with his order, a mistake I didn't spot. While they were outstanding on the whole, nobody is immune to the odd slip-up, especially during busy times.
The gentleman, clearly agitated by the situation, allowed his anger to overflow. He spoke ill of me, using strong, less than graceful language within public hearing distance.
The reprimand was not private either; his outburst happened in front of several other customers as well as my manager. Word of his unhappiness soon took a more formal turn, and he lodged an official complaint.
Simply dismissing this incident would have been a great relief, yet the account took an unexpected twist. Not content with the confrontation at the restaurant, the gentleman took to social media. Locating me on Facebook, he made it a point to message my parents. His words were unkind; he articulated his perception of me as a misstep in my parents' upbringing.
The experience was undoubtedly trying, but it wasn't without a silver lining. Another customer, who had been privy to the regrettable saga, showed me a kindness that I will always remember. Recognizing the unfair treatment I'd endured, he left me a $20 tip as a gesture of support.
The day could’ve easily become the embodiment of a worst-case scenario – pressure, mistakes, criticism, and conflict. Yet, it unexpectedly highlighted the importance of compassion and sympathy, things that matter the most, especially during the season of goodwill. This tale would always remain with me, not as a somber incident, but as a reminder of the kindness of strangers.
45. Carousel Crybaby
Once upon a time, I held a position at a delightful ice cream parlor that boasted a captivating, ever-spinning carousel that truly set it apart from any other.
The whimsical carousel was able to accommodate up to twenty ice cream lovers at a time, rounding out an overall seating layout composed of cozy booths and welcoming tables for the rest of the patrons.
The inviting atmosphere had a casual seating policy: customers arriving would typically seat themselves, savoring their ice cream while choosing their preferred spot.
The delightfully vibrant carousel was especially popular, attracting long lines of enthusiasts. Though we were unable to accept reservations for this crowd-favorite attraction due to its high demand, we gladly offered provisions for special events.
For instance, one could host an unforgettable birthday bash at our parlor, the package of which included an exclusive hour of carousel usage, along with the marquee to make their occasion extraordinary.
I found myself navigating through one such lively party one busy day, doing my part to cater to our guests by ensuring that their water glasses remained amply filled. During my rounds, I encountered a middle-aged man bemoaning his family's inability to secure a spot on the carousel.
As I gently explained the existence of the ongoing festive birthday celebration, his displeasure gave way to a retort laced with piquant sarcasm. He quipped, "Well, it's my birthday too"! Fortunately, the rest of his family seemed to be having a delightful experience, happily unfazed by the carousel predicament.
This, coupled with the fact that his statement seemed more playful than genuinely distraught, served to alleviate my concern.
46. Well-Done
Once upon a time, I was an employee at Applebee’s, serving up food and drinks with a side of hospitality. On a buzzing Friday night just as happy hour was gaining momentum, a father and daughter duo walked in, prepared for an evening out.
As their server, I was about to experience an unexpected turn of events, a rollercoaster ride of sorts that began innocently with their arrival.
After settling them in, I smoothly got their drinks and sparking up a friendly conversation, took their orders. The father and daughter, both decided on our renowned Southwest steak salad— a dish that is traditionally served medium-rare, a fact that's unambiguous and clearly stated on our menu.
However, the daughter had a particular request, she wanted her steak medium-well. I empathetically explained to her Applebee’s policy, that the Southwest steak salad is only made medium-rare.
Despite this, I promised that I would cross-check with my manager who perhaps could make an exception. To my surprise, she graciously brushed it off, stating that she was fine with the steak medium-rare.
Unfortunately, her father reacted dramatically different. He shocked us all with a rant about our food being pre-cooked, expressing incredulity at the inability to fully cook the steak. As a professional server, I held my composure through his tirade, apologized, and reassured him that I would speak to the manager to fulfill their request.
Conveniently, my manager granted approval for the unusually cooked steak causing a release of breath, I hadn’t realized I'd been holding. As I excitedly returned to the table to share the pleasing news, I found the father locked in a heated conversation with a person —a regular customer— from the table behind them.
The situation seemed delicate; it felt like a bubble about to burst.
In an adrenaline-filled moment, I intercepted their conversation aiming to mitigate the brewing tension. Sacrificing the serene atmosphere of our thriving restaurant was out of the question. What started as a ripple in a calm lake had grown quickly.
The affable regular, it appeared, was appalled at the father’s rude behavior towards his daughter and me. He felt he needed to step in, remind the father to treat us better and invoke empathy.
However, his well-intended intervention was met with hostility. The father's response escalated things even further as both men prepared themselves for a verbal and potential physical skirmish.
All my efforts to pacify them, even suggesting different seating in distinct parts of the restaurant, fell on deaf ears. As a last resort, I rushed to involve my manager.
By the time we reached the battleground, things had spiraled out of control with the two men wrestling on the floor. Quickly jumping into action, we separated them and forcibly escorted both men out irrespective of their relationship with our restaurant.
The incident had a lasting impact. I was left feeling unnerved for the remainder of my shift, a shadow of excitement hiding under the blanket of fear and the unpleasant memory on repeat in my head. Unpredictable- that’s a server’s life on high gear.
47. His Grossness Was Nothing To Sneeze At
I was employed as a barista, a delightful job that allowed me to interact with diverse people and realize the broad spectrum of human behavior. One particular day, an event occurred that I believe will remain etched in my memory forever. It was a regular working day and we were about to close up in just five minutes.
Suddenly, the entrance was darkened by a man who was of such a hefty build that he could easily be likened to a mammoth. His clothes were drenched in sweat, creating stains that bore a testimony to his physically exhausting day. An unpleasant odor pervaded the air around him, adding to the already grim picture.
However, as part of my duty, I managed to plaster a courteous smile on my face and proceeded to prepare his coffee order. As I was in the midst of brewing his coffee, I noticed something that instantly turned my stomach.
A large blob of mucus was escaping from his nostrils, threatening to drop at any moment. Undisturbed, he swiftly wiped it off with his bare hand. The incident could have ended there, merely a repulsive sight, if not for my unfortunate error of judgment that followed.
This gentleman, who had unbelievably chosen to disregard basic personal hygiene, displayed no signs of distress at the sight of the mucus still clinging to his hand. Oblivious, or maybe indifferent, to the discomfort of others, he offered me the money for his coffee with the same unclean hand.
I was thus reluctantly forced to accept the sticky, green remnants of what was once inside his nose, inadvertently smeared onto my hand. I barely restrained myself from exhibiting my nausea.
Yet, my professional instinct prevailed. I managed to conceal my revulsion behind a pasted smile, subtly wiping off the residue before he could notice. As soon as he left the premises, I darted to the kitchen, fervently washing my hands. I vividly remember, I washed them so many times that I stopped counting after the 14th time.
48. Lunchtime Loser
When I was seven months pregnant, I worked at McDonald's, where my baby bump and I served all kinds of customers. Sometimes, patrons would request us to bring their orders to their tables. You see, this is a pretty standard and acceptable request as some individuals might have a mild disability or simply had large orders that would be easier managed at a table. Alternatively, some parents would rather keep a close eye on their playful little ones instead of having to wait their turn at the counter to collect their meals.
So, there I was, pregnant and working. On one particular day, I found myself balancing a substantial tray full of food. It's crucial to note that having a baby bump means that you can't exactly see what's below the bump. My feet were practically unseen from my viewpoint, hidden behind the growing belly of mine.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny stool was in my path. Of course, due to my obstructed view, I didn't notice it. Then, the worst happened. Before I knew it, I tripped over the stool and found myself stumbling forwards. I landed partially on my belly in a fraction of a second that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.
As I was coming to grips with the shock of the fall, and slowly gathering the strength to stand up, my fellow colleagues came rushing over, their faces filled with concern. They feared for both my baby and me, checking if we were alright.
On the other hand, the customer who I was serving at that time had a radically different reaction. She chose not to ask about my wellbeing, nor express any concern for the unborn child. Instead, she reacted with clear annoyance. She loomed over me and began scolding me verbally for dropping her lunch onto the floor.
As if that wasn't bad enough, she had the audacity to demand that I personally cover the cost of her replacement meal.
49. Garlic Lovers Surprise
Every now and then, two regular customers, a pair of sisters, would frequent the pizzeria where I worked. As they initiated their order over the phone, they would always shower us with compliments, expressing their love for our cuisine, and lauding our top-notch service.
However, each conversation always had an undertone that our pizzas lack sufficient amount of garlic on the crust—a critique wrapped delicately within five-minutes of sweet verbal approval; they were always tactfully angling for extra garlic.
Assuring them we'd increase the garlic quantity on their crust, we watched as they entered the store, collected their order and exited. But, almost predictably, within five minutes, they returned; the elder sister almost immediately launched into a tirade about the lack of garlic on her pizza.
As I inspected the pizza, I was taken aback—it had more garlic than we ordinarily use. Yet, not only did they manage to get their pizza replaced free of charge, but they also held onto the previously claimed 'under-garliced' pizza.
This pattern continued to repeat over a few more visits, each time the request for garlic amplified. They managed to rob us of about three free pizzas on these spurious claims.
A month later, I recognized the sisters' name on the call display when they called to place another order. Just as expected, we went through the same garlic hullabaloo once again and ended the call, me and my boss, were close to the tether's end with them by this time.
Peeking into the garlic container, there was just enough left for about half a dozen pizzas. My manager, filled with an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance, decided to teach the ladies a lesson they wouldn't forget. To my utter surprise, he smothered the entire pizza in garlic, not just the crust!
An unprecedented flood of garlic transformed the pizza almost beyond recognition. Small ponds of garlic gathered on the cheese and the crust changed into a vibrant, sickly yellow-orange color. It was such an overpowering sight that it even soaked through the box, leaving a stain on the table beneath.
It was an alarming amount of garlic, dangerously unhealthy for anyone consuming it, and had I been unknowing of the context, my immediate advice would be to trash it. As the woman arrived to collect her order, she opened the box and to our surprise, looked satisfied. She paid for it, took the box and left.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement—I was more worried for her health. Oddly though, since that day, she has not returned for another pizza.
50. Just A Coke And A Smile
One late afternoon, a lone gentleman sauntered into our quaint café. His hardened features hinted he was likely somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. Right off the bat, he rubbed me the wrong way.
With a brusque snap of his fingers, he got my attention, and before I could even muster a welcome, he demanded, "A Coke. With a lemon wedge."
Our café, with its humble charm and limited budget, lacked a soda machine or high-profile beverage contracts—sodas weren't on our menu. I conveyed this information as plainly as I could, but his response was unprecedented, "I don't believe you heard me correctly. I ordered a Coke, garnished with a lemon wedge."
My bewilderment peaked as he'd ignored my explanation that we were a soda-less establishment. It eventually came to light that he expected me to stroll over to the adjacent store, hand over some cash for a Coke, and present it to him as if it were off our menu.
With as much respect and calm as I could muster, I gently informed him that such an arrangement was not viable. What occurred next was rather shocking—the man went into a rage and swept our precious porcelain teacups off the table, sending shards scattering across the floor and a few jagged pieces nicked my ankle in the process.
The café fell into a stunned silence as I stood, struck dumb, amidst the pile of destroyed and irreplaceable china, facing an angry man who seemed overly fond of fizzy drinks. Yet at that bewildering moment came unexpected relief. A kind-hearted customer stood up from across the café and approached us.
As he approached, he reached behind him, pulling something out of his back pocket. Displaying a shining metallic badge, it was revealed he was an off-duty cop. Soon enough, the irate customer was not served his desired coke. Instead, he was escorted out with a ticket issued under charges of threats and devastation of public property.
As he was sternly ushered into a patrol car, he whined, "I SIMPLY ASKED FOR A COKE! IF THIS INEXPERIENCED GIRL KNEW ONE THING ABOUT SERVICE, NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!"
A few days later, I discovered his infamous reputation. Apparently, his antics were all too familiar for the townsfolk, as he had garnered a record for similar unruly behavior in several other local businesses.
Sources: Reddit,
