(My boyfriend and I are regulars at this restaurant, and as such, our orders are fairly well known.)

Me: “I want a Number 1, with cheese, only ketchup and mayo, medium, with a pineapple smoothie.”

Cashier: “Okay, that’s a Number 1, with cheese, only ketchup and mayo, medium, with a pineapple smoothie. I should have this memorized by now!”

Me: “If we keep coming in here every weekend, you will!”

(While my boyfriend places his order, I go sit down and wait for our food.)

Cashier: *to the grillworker* “This sandwich is supposed to be only ketchup and mayo.”

Grillworker: “Okay, gotcha.”

(A few minutes later, I hear the cashier talking to the grillworker again.)

Cashier: “This isn’t what I asked for. Only ketchup, only mayo, cheese. This is that sandwich, without lettuce.”

Grillworker: “Right, that sandwich, without lettuce.”

Cashier: “No. Only ketchup, only mayo, with cheese.”

Grillworker: “Okay, I’ll fix it.”

(This goes on for awhile. Eventually, our order comes up, and my sandwich is correctly labeled. What did I find when I opened it? No lettuce, no mayo, ketchup, mustard, and pickles. I show it to the cashier.)

Cashier: “Why is it that they stick me with the idiots on Sundays?”

Me: “Your employer does that to you, too?”

Me: “Can I get eight ounces of the sliced ham?”

Deli Worker: “We can’t do that.”

Me: “Okay, how about half a pound?”

Deli Worker: “Sure thing!”

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(Note: Two friends and I are at a fast food drive-thru.)

Employee: “Order when you are ready.”

My Friend: “Six cheese burgers and three sweet teas.”

Employee: “One sweet tea and three burgers?”

My Friend: “Six cheese burgers and three sweet teas.”

Employee: “Okay, five burgers and two sweet teas.”

My Friend: “…No. Six cheese burgers and three sweet teas.”

Employee: “Seven burgers and five sweet teas.”

(My other friend gets so frustrated he just jumps out of the car and takes a walk so he doesn’t rage. My friend who is ordering repeats order and the employee finally gets it right. We drive around to pay and get our food.)

Employee: “So that was five sweet teas and seven burgers, right?”

(My friend is physically straining to not scream, but calmly and slowly repeats the order.)

My Friend: “No. It’s six cheese burgers and three sweet teas.”

(Unsurprisingly, when we finally get our food, we counted seven burgers. At that point, all we could was sit in the car laughing at the extra burger!)

(I’ve just ordered a small salad and some fries. I get the salad almost immediately, but the fries take longer. It’s been nearly a half hour when I finally ask about my fries.)

Me: “Excuse me, I ordered a side of fries about thirty minutes ago. Is it going to take much longer?”

Cashier: “It might. I don’t know. I don’t do fries. I’ll ask my coworker.”

(They go over to talk to their coworker at the fryer.)

Cashier: “Alright, he said it should only take a few more minutes. Probably got lost in the system because of your salad, haha.”

Me: “Thanks so much!”

(Another ten minutes pass. Several orders are put out, most of them with fries on the side. I start to get annoyed, and the cashier sees this.)

Cashier: “Hold on, I’ll take care of it…”

(She goes over to her co-worker and asks where my fries are, again.)

Fry Guy: “Stop f*****g asking me! I’ll get them when I f*****g get them!”

Cashier: “If you don’t stop speaking like that I will have [boss] have a stern talk with you.”

Fry Guy: “Yeah, right, I’ve been here way longer than you. Plus that fat-a** b***h doesn’t need more fat and grease.”

(At this moment, I turn and see a large man with “Manager” written on his name tag. He’s been listening and finally speaks up.)

Manager: *to the fry guy* “No, you have not been here that long, and this young lady is not fat. You’re fired.”

Fry Guy: “Aw come on, I’ve been here longer than [cashier] has been! Gimmie another chance!”

Manager: “No, you’ve done this five times in the last week already! I want your whites on my desk by two o’ clock, no later.”

Fry Guy: *mutters curses and stomps to the back*

Cashier: “Here, I’ll take your entire order off. It’s on us.”

(All that trouble over two handfuls of fries!)

(Note: My manager always brings her two young kids into work, where they continually get under the chefs’ feet and generally be the biggest nuisances.)

Manager’s Kid: “Hey you! Give me an ice cream!”

(I glance out to where the manager is chain-smoking, as usual, but she doesn’t notice me. Knowing he’ll throw a tantrum anyway if I don’t, I make him a small ice cream. A few minutes later…)

Manager: *to me* “Did you give [kid] ice cream?! You stupid girl, what did you do that for? Now you’ve ruined his dinner! And you can’t just give out free ice cream like that. Everything has to be accounted for. Don’t EVER do that again!”

(The next day…)

Manager’s Kid: “I want ice cream!”

Me: “Sorry dude; not before your dinner.”

(A few minutes later…)

Manager: “DID YOU SAY ‘NO’ TO MY SON?!”

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