Well, the short answer is that they must be an asshole.

But if that isnt enough to make you dump that human, grab your bags and head for the hills, then consider this.

I worked as a waitress for two years in college at a small town restaurant chain that was part diner, part ice cream parlor.

It was my first real job the kind where you wear a uniform and clock in and out and someone hands you a real paycheck at the end of every two weeks.

I kind of loved it.

I went home every night sweaty, exhausted and covered in melted ice cream, but I enjoyed the speed, the stress and the challenge every new table brought. I really did like interacting with strangers and trying to make them smile.

And most of the time they did smile. That always made the less-than-appealing parts of the job worth it: when, with the help of an ice cream sundae and a burger, I was actually able to brighten someones day over the span of 45 minutes to an hour.

That being said, every once in a while Id get one of those customers: a nightmarish, hellish kind of person sent straight from the depths to ruin my night.

Sure, that probably wasnt their intention when they walked in the door and sat down at a booth in my section, but thats what would end up happening.

You know the type of people Im talking about, whether or not youve ever held a waiters tray and donned a barista apron.

These are the people whowould say nothing after Id brought the menus to their table and introduced myself, Hi, Im Rachel, and Im going to be your server for the night.

Or worse, these are the kinds of people whowould simply bark out a demand after Id taken the time to say hello and welcome them. Yes, I know you would like waters for the table and a diet coke with no ice, but cant you wait until Ive told you my name?

Typically the rest of the night would go downhill from there, due to any number or combination of factors. Id bespoken over when Id return to take orders, or havethis hellish humanavoid eye contact and toss menus back into my hand as if I wasnt even there.

I loathed gettingflagged down from across the room three-plus times to bring the table yet another condiment or drink refill, despite the fact that Id have section full of other customers.

Sometimes Id just betreated as less-than, simply because I was serving people dinner.

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But still, the whole time Id smile through whatever rude comments theyd toss my way, bite back less-than-polite responses and even hold back tears. (Im an emotional woman, OK?)

It was honestly a pretty acrobatic display of human will power.

When theyd finallyleave, and as the bell from the front door clanged behind them, Id feel my stomach unclench and my neck cool down and the nervous sweat in my palms dry.

That is, only to find that theyd left no tip, despite the fact that I made only $2.87 per hour (nearly a quarter of the minimum wage at the time), to serve them a meal.

So if youre dating someone whodoes any of that, imagine what its like to be on the other side of that table.

Ask why your significant other thinks a server is anything less than a person, just because of the work they do.

Ask why they would want to take away someones joy for little to no reason or why they cant step into someone elses shoes.

Because TBH, if your significant other has that kind of disregard for another living, breathing human being, I cant imagine your relationship is all too incredible.

And just know that when you sit down at a table across from one of those nightmarish, hellish kinds of customers, Im probably gossiping with all the other servers about how shitty you must be, too.

Or Im just pitying you. Im not sure which is worse.

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