I’m a server in a small restaurant. I’m also queer, and I usually wear a rainbow bracelet as a signal to other queer folk that they can be themselves around me. A couple comes in and gets seated, and I go to pour water for them and bring them menus.

Me: “Welcome to [Restaurant]! Can I get you anything while you look at the menu?”

The man in the couple sees my bracelet and puts the menu down like he’s afraid he’ll catch something from it.

Customer: “Yes, we’re going to need a different server.”

Me: “It’s still early, and I’m the only server available right now. I’m afraid it’s me or nothing.”

Customer: “Get me your manager!”

That’s not going to end well for him, but okay. I go get my manager, who is also the owner of the restaurant. She’s a no-nonsense middle-aged woman who will stand up for her employees no matter what.

Customer: “We want a different server! You shouldn’t let someone like him work here!”

Manager: “Has [My Name] done anything wrong?”

Customer: “He’s wearing jewelry! He’s clearly one of those homosexuals! I don’t want to look at that while I’m eating!”

Manager: “Were you planning to f*** them?”

The customer turns a very interesting shade of red.

Customer: “EXCUSE ME?!”

Manager: “Their sexual orientation has no impact whatsoever on their ability to take your order and bring you your food. The only situation I can imagine where it would matter is if you were planning to f*** them, and that’s not a service we offer here.”

Thankfully for the customer, that was when his lady friend decided it would be a good idea for them to leave the restaurant. I love my manager.

I set up a direct debit to pay my bill with the electric company, always over and above what the bill would be, so I was well in credit. For some reason, the electricity company decided to disconnect my power — again, even though I was over $1,000 in credit with them.

After over two hours of very frustrating conversation with them, it was worked out that, apparently, when the meter reader came through, the yard looking unkempt and no car in the driveway meant that the house must be empty, even though the meter proved that electricity was being used, so the meter reader had put through a request for the power to be disconnected.

I assured them that, yes, I had indeed been slack in mowing and weeding, but my car being absent clearly just meant that I was at work in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, but I definitely still lived at the house and kind of needed the electricity that I had well and truly paid for.

Eventually, it was decided that they would reconnect my power.

Employee: “As a courtesy, we won’t charge you the reconnection fee… this time.“

I said that not only would they not be charging me a reconnection fee, but they would also be refunding the disconnection fee. I put a stop to the direct debit, and as soon as I had used all of the credit, I changed to a different power company.

Related:
The Lights Are Out But Somebody’s Home

A few months ago, my twenty-two-year-old cat died from old-age-related health issues. With “only” three cats and a dog left, the house felt somewhat empty, and I decided the best way to honor her memory was to give that space in my home to another rescue kitty.

Important to note is that all of my cats are black: I like giving a home to the “less adoptable” animals, and it comes with the bonus of both having at least one color I can wear without the fur showing — and they all look like mini panthers.

I decided to go to my local Humane Society to see the cats they had available. So many kitties, want them all! And then I found my boy.

The shelter had his name listed as “Lucky”. He was four years old, very shy, very scared, skinny, and all black. He was hiding at the back of one of the carriers in one of the cat colony rooms, obviously terrified of all the people visiting the shelter. He hissed at everyone who tried to come near him. He came from a hoarder house and had probably never been properly socialized with humans; in other words, he was still half-feral. Knowing his socialization and fear issues, the shelter listed him as a “spirit cat” — basically a cat that you can adopt but you should not expect them to stop hiding for six-plus months (if ever).

This was the cat that needed me. This was the cat I was going to adopt.

I sat next to the carrier he was hiding in, not invading his space, just staying nearby. After a while, I put my hand in and let him smell me. He growled a little but didn’t try to attack. I grabbed a handful of dry food from one of the bowls nearby and put it in the front of his carrier. He moved forward to eat it. The poor boy was hungry but too scared to come out and eat! I grabbed one of the trays of wet food that were scattered around the room and put it just outside his carrier. He poked his head out to eat the food as I was sitting right next to him! One of the shelter employees saw and commented that she had never seen him stick his head out the whole time he had been there — over a month.

He came home with me that day, and I’m so glad I picked him — or did he pick me?

It took less than a month for him to become confident enough to follow me around the house. Less than six months later, he is sweet, loving, and very pushy when he demands his wet food. He loves (and demands) attention, sleeps on my bed, and screams at me if his dinner is late (AKA not an hour early). The only problem is getting him to stop demanding that I pet him when I’m trying to work!

The small bakery cafe where I work is very close to the local football stadium. People frequently try to park in our lot and walk the ten minutes or so to the stadium instead of paying the $50 for parking. If they mention it, we always warn customers that they can’t park here and they WILL get towed, and there are signs ALL OVER the parking lot warning that it is for customers only and towing is enforced. (We are next door to the local Veterans Affairs office, so we’re technically on government property, and they are INCREDIBLY strict about it.) We don’t even have that big of a lot — only about twenty spaces.

Every time there is a game, a tow truck driver comes in after it starts. He makes his rounds, checking with everyone inside about what cars are theirs, and then tows everything else. Inevitably, we always get a few calls after games from angry people who can’t read about how we DARED to tow their car and how we should refund them the cost of the retrieval fees. (We do not get any compensation for having them towed; the tow company does, and possibly the VA they’re actually contracted to?) I usually just pass these calls to my manager, as she is both scarier than me and allowed to tell the customers how stupid they’re being.

This last weekend, though, it was a Big Game. I have no interest in sports, so I’m not sure what it was exactly, but we were slammed all morning until the game started at 1:00 pm, when we basically slowed to a stop. In anticipation, the tow driver was apparently here a little early, and he told us he was watching everyone park and just walk away from their cars toward the stadium. Our lot was mostly full, and we only had two customers inside, so it was very easy for him to figure out who was actually here, and I’m sure he made a hefty profit that day.

Several hours later, around 5:00 pm, a customer came storming in, angry that his car had been towed. First, he demanded our manager, who had left for the day, so that was a no-go. Then, he demanded her personal number, so he could call her to demand his car back. We refused, as we are explicitly forbidden from giving her number out for ANY reason, and honestly, I was more scared of her than I was of him.

From there, he demanded that WE call the towing company and make them bring his car back. We refused at first, as they are not contracted to us and had no reason to return a validly towed vehicle, before eventually giving in just to prove him wrong. As expected, they also refused.

From there, he got angrier. He decides to call the towing company himself, claiming he was, in fact, towed incorrectly, as he had been a customer. At 8:00 am that morning. Before leaving his car there for almost ten hours to go see the game. Predictably, they refused yet again. He claimed he was going to call his lawyer and sue us. He stormed off, presumably called the lawyer, and presumably was refuted yet again.

After almost forty-five minutes of various calls and demands and such, he stormed back to the front and proceeded to yell at me, at full volume, as I was trying to help some customers check out.

Man: “$400 for f****** parking?! Is this how you treat your f****** veterans? This is bulls***! I should have just parked at the VA!”

He absolutely still would have gotten towed.

Man: “Your signs are lying! They never said I had to be on the property, just that I had to a customer! And I was! I bought something! I will never frequent…”

He lost his momentum for a moment.

Man: “Um, what’s this place called again? Right! I will never come back to [Slightly Incorrect Name Of Our Restaurant], ever again! I will tell all of my friends how s***ty this place is! This is disrespectful to your country!”

It took a lot of my restraint to keep a straight face and not start laughing. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought he was (especially after almost a decade in customer service). Him not even knowing the name of our bakery (which was printed on everything and he could have just READ it on my shirt) was frankly hilarious.

Eventually, he petered out, seemingly disappointed by my utter non-reaction, and stormed out. I apologized to my customers, gave them a small discount for the trouble, and moved on with the shift.

Afterward, my manager called the store as she had seen the confrontation on the cameras, and she started laughing with me as I recounted the tale. She told me I had done everything right, and she hoped the man would call for her the next day so she could lay into him herself.

I’m just glad he decided to scream at me and not my sixteen-year-old coworker on her first job. She was freaked out just hearing it, but it kind of made my night, honestly.

Client: “I got your quote, but it’s too high. A company in [Another Country] quoted me half your price.”

Me: “Then buy it from them. I can’t make it that cheap.”

Client: “Their quality is useless, and I need it before they would even be able to mail it. What am I supposed to do?

Me: “Pay more.”