The thought of this as a public art installation in my very small, very tight-knit community is sending me into fits. Thanks for that.

2002 was a different time. A better time.

Damn, did she ever teach me the meaning of friendship that day (she was also my pseudo-babysitter for a few years when I was like 11 and she was 13, so she was probably feeling a little big sister protective). Should probably tell her she’s internet-famous.....

Thanks for this. My story, my Mom. I know it seems impossible that someone could go from 0-60 like that, but she was quite literally the craziest customer I’ve ever served in my 18 years in this beautiful/horrible industry. I don’t know if she was drunk, or having a really terrible day, or if she was just generally a…

Oh man I’m bummed that it come across as fake to you. It could be because I’ve told this story literally hundreds of times and I think I’ve gotten pretty good at telling it (its my favorite restaurant story, and after 18 years in the biz, I’ve got a lot of them). The story is true, and it happened the way I said, but…

Ack, no, I begged (begged!) my Mom to let me start working when I was 12 so I could buy candy and tacky jewelry and stuff. I washed dishes 1 day/week for a family friend who ran a small kitchen. I got paid a fair wage, made a small cut of tips and had an absolute blast. As to your second point, by the time this story…

Don’t want my Mom to take flack for that. I was a precocious kid and WANTED to work during Summer break so I could afford to buy candy and shit. I had 2 jobs that Summer (totaling maybe 8 hrs/week?), working in a family friend’s slaughterhouse wrapping meat and washing dishes at another family friend’s restaurant. I…

I will defend ole Mumsy as I didn’t get a chance to tell her about the spitting before crazy woman barged into the kitchen. She didn’t see any of the exchange at all, in fact, only the fact that I was crying which wasn’t....hugely abnormal (in the context of work, yes, but in the context of life, no). Sara *might…

No, tragically. Small town with only a few good jobs so I don’t blame the managers for not sticking their necks out (not to mention that they didn’t see the gross majority of the exchange, so I think it would be hard for them to comprehend how truly abusive this customer was).

At the time, I didn’t know that spitting was assault (I just knew it was super fucking gross), and unfortunately, I didn’t know how to advocate for myself very well. If my Mom had known about the spitting (which she didn’t hear about until later), she probably would’ve advocated for me....if you know what I mean...(I…

Um, no. I tell people ALL THE TIME not to touch the hot things and what do they do? TOUCH THE HOT THINGS.

Should’ve. If my Mom had heard the part about the spitting on my foot, she probably would’ve laid hands on her. To this day that woman still ranks as the most abusive customer I’ve ever served (and I still work in food service 15 years later).

Glorious lone wolf.