Last night at work was the absolute worst. I work at a small, family owned, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. There are 11 booths along each wall and three tables in the middle that almost never get used. On weeknights, we have one server, one host(ess), and two people in the kitchen.

Last night was a weeknight; Thursday, to be exact. To give some background on how the night began, I showed up to work at 4:30 to find that two of the three “big” booths each had three tables lined up next to them to make two big tables that would fit 25 people. The high school boys’ lacrosse team was having a team dinner.

The lacrosse team was the least of my issues last night. The mothers buying called in days earlier to tell the cooks what they were eating and how many people there would be. The owner’s wife, the host that night (and not to mention, my amazing boyfriend, Jackie, who put up with my complaining all night) and I brought their food, filled and refilled pitchers of soda and took their plates away. One other table of four came in while they were there, but they didn’t mind the noise and were very patient. It was easy and the boys were out the door in less than an hour. The three mothers paid and left me and my boyfriend a huge tip. You rock, lax moms!

Then the madness started. A table of seven, a father, his two daughters, and his four grandchildren entered. This table came in as the lacrosse boys were exiting the restaurant. The team was bigger than anticipated and ended up taking over two extra booths. This family of seven saw the huge mess that needed to be cleaned up. I told them I needed one minute to clear one of the big booths for them. It took me a while, considering everything was covered in tomato sauce. There were straw wrappers all over the place. And I’m pretty sure the boys had just had practice before their dinner because the whole dining room reeked of sweaty lax bro.

I sat them at table six in less than three minutes, and Jackie gave them menus and brought them bread and butter. Shortly after that, three more tables came in. A few minutes after that, two more families came in. As these tables came in, Jackie and I were frantically clearing tables and seating everyone as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Jackie also had to take care of people picking up their takeout orders.

This man, the only male at table six, was one rude son of a biscotti. The first words I heard out of his mouth when I approached the table: "Two orders of mozzarella sticks." Then, I heard him yelling at one of his daughters when she told him she thought they were only ordering one.

If you work in a restaurant, you know that you run out of things, especially when huge parties come in and it’s a busy night. Well, we were out of mozzarella sticks.

Two of table six’s meals came with soup, so he and his daughter wanted our infamous chicken orzo soup. Guess what we were out of? His daughter kindly told me it was OK and asked for minestrone. The man barked, “Clam chowder!” at me, then said, "You're out of everything," as I walked away.

Now, I’m not saying that this is a reason for his particular bitterness, but this man ordered four beers during his meal. When he asked for another Michelob Ultra, I had to ask him what else he wanted because he drank the last one. He then asked for a beer that we have never sold. I sent Jackie to take his beer order because believe it or not, I had other tables to take care of. He settled for “any cold beer” and that’s what he got.

This man at table six was a real piece of work. He complained about his soup and his chicken parm (which is one of our most popular and well-liked meals). He made more of a mess than his four grandchildren combined. I didn't receive a single "thank you" from him. And when they left and I told them, "Have a great day,” he simply grunted at me and moseyed on out. This table had a $100 check and he left me a $20 tip, which is good. But no amount of money could make up for the fact that he was the most ill-mannered and mean customer I have ever served.

Let’s move over to table five. Your kids watch the way you treat your server. Children are very impressionable, and a young boy who wants to be just like his dad when he grows up is going to follow his every move. As a father, and a mother for that matter, it is your job to lead by example when it comes to teaching your kids how to be respectful. Now, I’m a 19-year-old waitress in college. I am no parenting expert. But I know that when I go out to eat, I am patient and kind to my server, I clean up as much of my mess as possible before I leave, and I tip at least 20 percent every time because that is what my parents always did. I learned my manners from them. And as a waitress, those are the kinds of things customers sometimes do that make my shift so much easier.

The father at table five was nice enough to me. He didn’t complain and he wasn’t high maintenance. However, he asked Jackie as he was passing by about his family’s order. Jackie checked and told him it would just be a few more minutes. This man brushed him off with a rude, "Yeah, OK,” and his son followed suit and said, "Yeah, OK." This man’s son learned rudeness from the way he treated someone who was serving him. Luckily, other children have parents who teach them to be polite.

Later, when all the tables had cleared out, a man came in with his son. Jackie brought them bread and they thanked him as if he had given them a puppy. The dad had some conditions when it came to ordering the fried calamari. I told him how they came (which was not how he liked them) and anticipated his disappointment and rudeness the rest of the meal. Instead, he said, "No problem, we’ll skip that!” and proceeded to order his meal and his son’s. This man was patient. He used phrases like, "Take your time,” and, "When you get the chance.” He asked me my name, and both he and his son called me by it the rest of the time. He was super nice and his son could not have been kinder. This man was a positive example of how to treat a stranger doing you a service and his son, fresh out of the fifth grade, could teach some of the much older customers I’ve dealt with how to be a decent human.

It is so incredibly easy to just be nice. This doesn’t apply only to being kind to the people who are serving you. When someone tells you to have a great day, a simple “thank you” or “ you too” goes a long way. If you want something from a restaurant or retail store or anywhere, but they apologize and tell you they ran out, pick something else. Don’t be a jerk about it. If you are planning to go somewhere with your family just so you can complain and make everyone miserable, stay home. “The customer is always right” does not mean you get to be a crappy person. Just be nice.