Take Your Pick
When I was a waiter, I once had a woman and her friends at one of my tables. The woman asked for a can of Coca-Cola. When I brought their drinks and gave the woman her Coke, she looked at me, and, in that typical rich person voice, said “Excuse me, honey? I asked for Fanta, not Coke.” So I apologized, wrote it onto my notepad, and went back to get her a can of Fanta.
Brought it to her, and again, she turned to me and said, “I didn’t ask for Fanta, I asked for Cream Soda.” By this time, I was getting a bit annoyed, but went back and got her a Cream Soda anyway. And surely, when I returned to her table, she did the same thing again, “I asked for Sprite. Should I call the manager?”
So, for the last time, I smiled and I went back to the kitchen and packed one can of each: Coke, Cream Soda, Fanta, Sprite, Pepsi and Sparberry Soda, into a small plastic box and took it all to her and said “Here you go, miss, take your pick.” She looked offended and almost made a scene. She started lecturing me about how I’m incapable of getting the simplest order right and that she wants to talk to the restaurant’s manager.
I told her that I can call him, and that I’ll show him all the soda types I wrote on my notepad that she asked for, and we can get his opinion on the matter. She turned and took her darn Sprite out of the plastic box and said, “Just leave it.” Her friends were silent throughout the whole ordeal and none of them gave me any issues further on. I didn’t receive a tip, as expected, but I shrugged it off.
Story credit: Reddit / Dr_Levi