Doesn’t Understand The Native Part
(My boyfriend, our best friend, and I have recently started a bakery business together. The boys are the bakers, while I work the register. It’s late in the afternoon and we are just about to close. The boys are sweeping the floors and other stuff. I am Mohawk Native American, but people often think I am Hispanic because of my darker skin. A customer walks in.)
Me: “Good evening, How can I help you?”
Customer: “Ah, no. Him.” *points at my friend*
My Friend: “Oh, sorry I am cleaning up. [My Name] will help you with your order.”
Customer: “No, it’s fine. How about him?” *points at my boyfriend, who is at the back doing the accounts*
Me: “He is not available either. I would be glad to help you.”
Customer: *sighs* “Alright. I have an order for a dozen eclairs, but can he give them to me?” *points again at my boyfriend*
Me: *confused* “Why?”
Customer: “Well, you’re Mexican, right? I just don’t want immigrants touching my food. You understand, right?”
(I just stare with shock.)
My Friend: “Lady, first of all she is Native American. Second, we do not tolerate racism here, so would you be so kind to leave our shop?”
Customer: “And you call yourself American! Defending some painted savage b****! I bet she puts peyote in the food to lure good Christian Americans into being voodoo savages!” *storms out and slams the door*
This story is part of our Native-American roundup.
Question of the Week
Have you ever served a bad customer who got what they deserved?
