...where I work now:
1) The (Thai) owner with the tired face had to fiddle with an app delivery touchscreen to get it working again, and when I asked her how I could get it connected, she showed me, and it involved getting the wifi connected, which involved the fact that we have wifi, which I had no idea bout.
"But don't tell the customers," she was like. "If they use it, it slows the connection down."
And then, she was like, "So, lie. And give them the password next door."
2) Right after we opened, a (very fat) (old white) lady in a purple t-shirt waddled in with a (small) (brown-haired) (male) toddler, and said she wanted takeout and a rice right away for here for him. And, she couldn't remember the name of the dish, so we had to help her find that on the menu. And, right after she ordered, we brought out the bowl of rice for him, and they sat at a small table near the counter. And, rice got everywhere, and she came up and asked us for a napkin to clean it, and though she cleaned it off the floor and maybe the table, we still had to wipe the table when they left like we always do, and she left her chair just swung out to the side, where we had to go and push it back in.
(Zero tip, like not even a dollar.)
3) Four (older) (white) ladies come in and it turns out that they're celebrating the one's birthday, and they all have separate checks, including one for the birthday woman. After one confuses nickels for dimes with her bill and they dive in to help her -- "You need ten more cents, Janie" -- it suddenly becomes clear that she has early- to mid-stage dementia, and that's also why she had rested her water glass on the small hors d'oeuvre plate that we had set out on the table for their crab rangoons, people can start confusing textures and patterns and objects and she must have thought it was a coaster.
She would also look up at me vacantly and smile when I approached the table to talk, like she was trying to act like she knew what was happening.
4) Like three minutes before close, we get an automated call from an app alerting us that a takeout order had come in from someone with a (South Asian) name, so we enter it in and call them right away, to let them know to be in within 5 minutes since we're closing for the afternoon, and the person answers and said they didn't know we were closing and they were driving and were fifteen minutes away, but they'd be there as soon as possible, and eventually they come in, this (very fat) (basketball-shaped) (mid-40s) (South Asian) woman in a big black shirt with white patches, whose head is like another basketball with (ashy) skin and (pulled-back) (frizzy) (oily) (black) hair on her basketball-shaped body, and it's like 25 minutes after we'd be gone and the cooks are out from the back eating their late lunch while the restaurant is closed for the afternoon, and the (fat) (South Asian) woman checks in the bag to make sure there's a fork and napkin and says there isn't one and makes me go to go get one until she realizes that there is one in there and she tells me not to go, and then she takes it and waddles to the door, and I follow her there and lock it behind her, as she goes to her (shiny) (silver) SUV by the curb and clambers up into it, which isn't all that easy for her, apparently, since she's carrying a takeout bag, for one thing, and for another she's shaped like a basketball and has a very low center of gravity.
(Zero tip on the initial bill, and zero tip afterwards, not even a dollar. This type of person, i.e. South Asian, so often thinks a compliment on the food or a "sorry" is equivalent to money. And she has all that gas money for the SUV.)
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