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    Caught Brown Handed

    | Belgium |

    (In the Chinese restaurant where I work, we have little bottles of soy sauce on every table. They look like they’re tightly closed, but the top actually doesn’t close at all. A lady and her daughter finish dinner and are leaving.)

    Me: “Excuse me madam, but I’m afraid the soy sauce is restaurant property. You can’t take it.”

    Mother: “You calling me a thief? I want to speak to the manager! This will cost you your job, you little b****!”

    Daughter: “Um, mum…”

    Me: “The manager is not in right now, but if you want the sauce, it’s on sale at the front of the restaurant.”

    Mother: “You’ve got some nerve! I never even touched your stinking sauce, you c**! Call the manager now!”

    (Several customers are starting to giggle and the daughter looks like she’s about to die.)

    Me: “Maybe you have taken the sauce without noticing? Because I’m sure you touched it at some point.”

    Mother: “You’re sure? I tell you I didn’t touch it! You can’t treat your customers that way! You telling me you’ve been spying on me or something?”

    Me: “Certainly not. But the huge brown stain on your purse is hard to ignore.”

    (Her daughter drags her by the arm and they storm out the front door, leaving a sticky trail of soy sauce from the mother’s cloth purse. I laughed so hard I didn’t even mind them stealing the sauce.)