Category: Food & Drink

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Left-out Leftover

| Winnipeg, MB, Canada | Employees, Food & Drink, Ignoring & Inattentive

(I am at a fairly pricey steakhouse. I’ve ordered way too much food, and it is too good to throw out, so…)

Waitress: “Would you like some dessert this evening?”

Me: “No, thank you, but could I have my leftover steak and baked potato boxed up, please?”

Waitress: “Sure!”

(She disappears for 15 minutes. When she re-appears and sees us waiting, she does a double-take.)

Waitress: “…Is there anything else?”

Me: “Um, my leftovers?”

Waitress: “OH!”

(She gets a deer-in-the-headlights look, vanishes again, and then reappears with a box containing just my steak; no potato.)

Waitress: “Here you go! Sorry about that!”

(I was rather afraid that she’d thrown out my food and retrieved the steak from the garbage – but, like I said, it was too good to throw out. I ate it anyway. Didn’t die.)

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Finger Flavor

| MI, USA | Coworkers, Extra Stupid, Food & Drink, Health & Body

(I am recently hired at a popular burger chain. I’m doing dishes and washing a vegetable cutter in the same fashion I’d watched another employee wash it a few days prior. I end up cutting myself on it but decide not to go to the hospital for treatment because it isn’t a serious wound. A while later, after I can bandage it, I’m back out on lobby, sweeping. We have a new shake mix that is a very red color. I don’t realize until later that someone dripped some of it leading away from the sink to the break area.)

Coworker #1: “Is that blood?”

Coworker #2: “I really don’t think that’s blood.”

Coworker #1: “I know a girl cut her hand earlier.”

Coworker #3: “OH, MY GOD! SHE CUT HER FINGER OFF!”

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Putting Them In Low Spirits

| USA | Employees, Food & Drink

(My sister asks me to lunch in an upscale restaurant that I’ve never been to before. We’re both in our 30s, but I look very young, and I have no makeup on and my hair is in a messy bun. My sister looks older, very made up, and hair styled.)

Waiter: “Good afternoon. What would you like to order to drink?”

Me: “This [alcoholic drink] sounds good. I’ll have that.”

Sister: “Me, too!”

Waiter: “May I see your IDs, please?”

(We fish them out and hand them over, the waiter gives mine back with a doubtful frown at my face. He gets the drinks and brings them over. We sip.)

Me: “So good!”

Sister: “I agree.”

Me: “But I can’t taste any alcohol…”

(I tried her drink, and noticed it had a lot more alcohol in it than mine. We figured the waiter thought I had a fake ID, didn’t want to call me out on it, and didn’t put any alcohol in mine. It still tasted good, so I didn’t complain. We laughed about it for hours after.)