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    Coworkers: They Make Life Worth Living, Part 2

    , | Denver, CO, USA | Top

    (Everyone I work with knows I’m gay. A customer has just paid for her order.)

    Customer: “Stop staring at my boobs!”

    Me: “Huh?”

    Customer: “You heard me!”

    Me: “Lady, I was just counting the money you gave me.”

    Customer: “No, you were staring at my boobs and pretending to count the money. Let me talk to your manager right now! I’m going to get you fired!”

    (Before I can say anything, one of my male coworkers comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my chest.)

    Coworker: “I’m the manager. Are you bothering my boyfriend?”

    Customer: *takes her food and leaves*

    Coworker’s girlfriend, to me: “Hey, wanna come over tonight?”

    Related:
    Coworkers: They Make Life Worth Living

    The Only Thing Toasted Is His Mind

    , | Commerce Township, MI, USA |

    Customer: “I don’t want my sandwich toasted.”

    Me: “No problem, sir. We actually don’t have a toaster here, so you don’t have to worry.”

    Customer: “OH YES YOU DO! The last sandwich I got was toasted!”

    Me: “Um. Are you sure it was from this store?”

    Customer: “Yes. It was from this exact store, and it was toasted so bad I almost couldn’t eat it.”

    Me: “I’m not sure how that’s possible, sir. We honestly don’t have a toaster, and we never have.”

    Customer: “Oh, so now I don’t know what toasted bread looks like?”

    Me: “I–”

    Customer: “The top of my bread was brown. And do you know what makes bread brown?”

    Me: “The crust?”

    Customer: “A TOASTER!”

    (Seriously, no toaster. Ever. At all.)

    Jonesin’ For Some Pepperoni

    , | British Columbia, Canada |

    (An older lady called in to comment about the sauce of one of our most popular pizzas.)

    Customer: “It’s as though you people put crack in it!”

    Me: *laughs* “It is pretty good…”

    Customer: “So, do you?”

    Me: “Do we… what?”

    Customer: “Put crack in it.”

    Me: “…are you asking if we put cocaine in our pizza sauce?”

    Customer: “Yes!”

    Me: “No. I’m pretty sure they stopped putting drugs like that into food and medicine by the 1940s.”

    Customer: “Oh. Really? Because it would explain a lot. I just can’t stop eating this pizza!”

    Unlimited Food, Limited Intelligence

    | Delaware, USA |

    (I’ve just served the customers their unlimited salad bowl…)

    Customer: “Well, where’s my salad?”

    Me: “The bowl on the table is for everyone to share. That’s why I brought everyone their own salad plates.”

    Customer: “Yes, but where is my bowl of salad? Don’t I get my own?”

    Me: “Well, it’s supposed to be served family style where everyone eats from the same bowl.”

    Customer: “So, they are trying to cheat me out of my salad.”

    Me: “Well, it’s an unlimited salad bowl so you get unlimited free refills.”

    Customer: *turns to his wife* “See, that’s where they get you. There’s always a catch…”

    Me: “Just let me know if you need more salad…”

    With Thought, Care And Testosterone

    | Rockaway Beach, OR, USA |

    Female Conference Attendee: “Where’s the cook? This food is amazing, and I want to give my regards to the cook.”

    Me: “That’s great to hear – if you wait a moment, I’ll get him out of the back.”

    (I return with the cook.)

    Me: “This is ****, and he is our head cook.”

    Attendee: *looking behind the head cook* “No, seriously – where’s the cook? I need to talk with her.”

    Cook: “Ma’am, I am the cook. How can I help you?”

    Attendee: *looking askance* “You are NOT the cook. You cannot BE the cook. The food here is so wonderful, so full of love – it MUST be cooked by a woman.”

    Cook: “All right, you caught us. The real cook has her day off today. We’ll thank her when she gets back tomorrow.”

    Attendee: “Yes, you will.” *muttering as she walks away* “Men who cook…sheesh.”

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