I am a volunteer firefighter. I’m also a member of the local yacht club, which consists of the usual collection of mostly awesome people who love boats and a few entitled jerks. At dinner the other night, one of the latter members was complaining about how “those Firemen” had made her late for her hair appointment earlier, and she had to drive “all the way around the other side of town” because they just “randomly decided to close the road”. I finally had to speak up.

Me: “Yes, Tracy. In fact, it was me who stopped you driving over the cones I had set out beside my fire truck. You remember the big red one with the flashing lights on the roof? Yeah, I told you then that the road was closed because there was a power line down across the road. And that we couldn’t let you drive over it because we didn’t want anyone to get electrocuted. I am so sorry that you had to go a whole five minutes out of your way to get to your appointment. But I guess it’s okay because your hair does look lovely. And fortunately, you’re still alive.”

At least she had the good grace to look embarrassed at being called on her bad behavior.

I’ve known this customer for probably like a year; he’s a guest of a member. He can’t even come in here by himself, but that doesn’t stop him from asking for free drinks.

Today, I’m on the patio five feet from the bar, resetting some furniture we moved for an event about an hour prior. He’s watching me, waiting for me to turn. His girlfriend tells him to stop, but he proceeds to lean over the bar, put his cup under the tap, and pour.

This dummy picked the wrong tap that had a stopper in it and sprayed beer all over the place. I heard the commotion and came back in. He claimed he spilled his drink, and she said the same. They leave shortly after I start cleaning, but the spray is everywhere, no way he just spilled.

I check the camera and see exactly what he did. They’re still on the property, so I go out and confront them, tell them it’s on camera, I know they lied about it, and they have to leave.

They leave, but then he comes back in alone to argue with me about it, saying, “I wasn’t getting a drink, I was just squirting it!”

Whatever the h*** that means.

I had to tell him to leave more than ten times before he did. The whole time, he’s stressing “it’s not that serious.”

It’s something like this every week here: our drinks are free, they just have a limit, and people still try to steal more.

When I was a kid, my mom’s mother lived outside of Philadelphia, and we would usually go visit her in the summer for a few weeks. Near where she lived, there was a historic sports club known for cricket, indoor and outdoor tennis, squash, and bowling. It also had a fancy dining room, and my grandmother was a member because that was the thing to do if you were a well-off person of her generation.

We often would go there for dinner at least once per visit to my grandmother. On one such occasion, we were ordering dessert, and I chose chocolate mousse, as that was definitely not something I could get at home. When it was brought out, being a kid with a rather dry sense of humor I looked at the goblet and said:

Me: “If it’s a moose, where are the antlers?” 

The waiter laughed at that and produced a pair of lollipops that he stuck stem-first into it, to the amusement of everyone at the table.

I used to be a server/bartender at a golf course. I was pretty much the only one who paid attention to little details and got the little details taken care of.

I didn’t recall any of the coffee pots being cleaned in the last three years, so I peeped inside one and holy Hell, it was beyond disgusting. Like, I was about to barf, disgusting. 

On a slow day when I had no tables, I spent time cleaning and sanitizing every coffee pot we had (there had to be at least thirty of them).

The next day, we’re having a lunch rush, and a regular customer asked me:

Regular: “Did you change coffee brands? The coffee is so much more tasty than it was last week.”

This regular was one of the ones who insisted on sitting in my section because I wasn’t afraid of all her food “requirements,” and she thought I was awesome for some strange reason.

Regular: “Did you switch to a better brand of coffee? It’s so much better! The coffee has been a bit s*** as of late!”

Me: “I gave the coffee pots and the machines a serious cleaning.”

Regular: “…”

Then she bursts out laughing and says:

Regular: “Good on you!”

The general manager overheard.

General Manager: “Nobody has ever cleaned those since I’ve been here!”

Me: “🤢🤮”

I got promoted to shift supervisor after that. Wheee!

I’m a waitress in a fancy country club. While the majority of the clientele are polite and respectful, there are always a few who think their wealth gives them permission to be jerks.

Customer: “You, girl, get me another gin and tonic!”

Me: “Sir, this will be your fourth spirit drink. I’m only allowed to serve it to you if you’re staying at the country club residences tonight.”

Customer: “Who the f*** are you to tell me what I can or cannot have! I make in a week what you make in a year!”

Me: “Blood alcohol levels don’t care how much money you have.”

Customer: “What the f*** did you say to me?!”

Me: “Sir, it’s club policy to limit hard liquor to three if we know a club member is driving.”

Customer: “Get me the manager. Right f****** now.”

I call the manager over, and he explains the club’s drinking and driving policy again. The club member seems to accept it when it’s coming from a middle-aged guy and not a twenty-year-old woman, but what’s new?

Customer: *Pointing at me.* “Fine, but I want her to apologize.”

Manager: “She was just upholding the club’s policy, sir.”

Customer: “She’s the help, so she needs to learn there are certain ways to talk to members! I expect an apology.”

My manager looks at me with a pained look. I subtly roll my eyes.

Me: “Sir, I apologize. You have become my benchmark of what to expect from a certain kind of club member, and I will ensure I remember that the next time you’re in the club.”

Customer: “Well, that’s more like it!” *Storms off.*

Manager: “Do you think he’ll realize what you actually meant when he’s driving home?”

Me: “Nah. Last summer, when he was bragging about how smart he is, I told him that he must have been at the top of the bell curve in college, and he said, “I was the toppest!””