I work at a food truck, and our menu is pretty limited.

Customer: “What do you have that’s gluten-free?”

Me: “Uh, not much. We just have the one wok back here, so we can’t guarantee a lack of contamination, plus most of our base sauces are soy sauce, and we don’t have gluten-free noodles, so I don’t think we can help you.”

Customer: “But I’m a celiac.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Customer: “No, you don’t understand. I’m a celiac! It’s against the law for you not to have a gluten-free menu! I’m protected under the American Disabilities Act!”

Me: “That’s… not true.”

Customer: “Yes, it is! You need to have something on the menu for me, or I’ll sue you!”

Me: “Okay, I can offer you a Coke or a Diet Coke?”

I’m working the window of my ice cream truck.

Customer: “Hi, do you have any Choco Tacos?”

Me: “Sorry, we just sold the last one.”

Customer: “Can you check the back?”

I pause, then gesture to the tiny truck behind me.

Me: “This is an ice cream truck.”

Customer: “So? You’re not even going to check? How lazy are you?”

I pause, duck dramatically below the counter for two seconds, then pop back up.

Me: “I checked. We’re out.”

Customer: “All you did was duck! You didn’t check anything!”

I sigh, open the tiny glovebox at the front, peer inside, and slam it shut.

Me: “Nope, the warehouse says we’re empty.”

The customer just stares at me before settling for a popsicle.

I’m working at an ice cream truck parked near a busy beach promenade. I’m serving a steady line of customers on a hot day when a woman marches up to the window, glaring.

Customer: “Are you aware that your jingle is far too loud? I could hear it from three blocks away while I was meditating!”

Me: “Oh, sorry about that.”

Customer: “And you’ve got children running around like wild animals because of it. It’s practically inciting a sugar riot!”

Me: *Gesturing to the ‘Ice Cream’ sign, the giant cone statue, and the thirty-plus kids in line.* “Yeah… children tend to riot when they see ice cream. It’s sort of the business model.”

Customer: “Well… stop it! Turn it down!”

Me: “Sorry, but if I stop playing the jingle, I lose my tiny, sticky fanbase.”

I took my mom to the doctor today for an appointment, and at the hospital complex, there’s a food truck that comes and serves food for the employees. I’ve seen it several times, since that’s where my mom’s doctor works.

Since it was around lunchtime when my mom got done, she suggested that I go and ask if I could order some food from there. I go over there, and the woman in front of me is sounding so irritated that I could hear her even though I had my headphones in. I take them out like the sneaky b*** I am, and hear this conversation:

Customer: “What do you mean can’t take me to my husband! He’s sick!”

Food Truck Owner: “Lady, I told you. I just own this food truck. I can’t take you nowhere.”

Customer: “Who is your boss?!”

Food Truck Owner: “I am, sometimes my husband when he’s in the mood.”

Customer: “But my husband is sick! And you’re here! TAKE ME TO MY HUSBAND!”

Food Truck Owner: “Dios Mio, lady! Get the f*** out! Unless you want a burrito, I’m gonna call the cops.”

The woman just shut up and walked away after it seemed she wouldn’t get her way.

I got up and talked to the food truck owner. I didn’t press into it because it wasn’t my business, but she said that woman came up her truck demanding that she take her to her husband who was sick (not sure with what) just because they were on hospital grounds.

I got my food, and we ended up having a good lunch. I told my mom about it, and we laughed so hard.

It’s late at night, and customers are swarming the food trucks near the clubs. Everyone has the munchies.

Customer: “How many nuggets come in the five-piece nugget?”

Me: “Four, but because you seem cool, I’ll give you five.”

Customer: *Beginning to cry and squealing.* “Oh my god, that’s sooooooo nice of you!”