And That’s How The Ninth Cookie Crumbles

I work at a sandwich store which is connected to a gas station. There’s no wall separating the two, so both places can hear everything on both sides. My coworker and I have just rung up a couple’s order, and the man asks for eight cookies. As we take out the eight cookies he wants, he begins to yell at us.

Customer: “Where is my ninth cookie?!”

Me: “Sir, you ordered eight cookies.”

Customer: “Why would I have to pay more for a cookie I already bought?!”

Me: “You only bought eight cookies. If you want another, it’ll be $0.78.”

I continue to explain to him that he’ll have to buy another cookie for the ninth one. At this point, he’s not even arguing, just yelling.

Customer: “This is not my problem!”

Me: “I know, sir. I never said it was.”

I even take his receipt and show him that he was charged for eight cookies. As he continues to yell that it isn’t his problem, I am getting overwhelmed, so I have to step back so I won’t go off on him. Midway, he starts hacking and coughing himself blue.

A gas station employee has to ask what was happening. His wife, having said nothing this entire time, finally speaks.

Customer’s Wife: “Just shut up and go!”

She pushed her husband to leave and apologized.