Giving Up Buttering Up

| Working | January 2, 2016

(I have a severe allergy to all animal-based dairy, so anything with milk, cheese, butter, etc. is a no-no for me. I’m out to breakfast with some friends.)

Me: *gives breakfast order, which includes eggs* “Could I have the toast dry, please? I’m allergic to dairy.”

Waitress: “What, like, no butter at all? What about margarine?”

Me: “No, I can’t have margarine either. Just dry toast, please.”

Waitress: *shaking her head, like dry toast was the weirdest thing she’d ever heard of* “Oookay.”

(She comes back later with everyone’s breakfasts, and toast in a basket; mine is sitting underneath everyone else’s, now saturated with all the butter that dripped down.)

Me: “Excuse me, could I have fresh toast, please? This has butter on it now. Oh, and my eggs are missing.”

Waitress: *curtly and sarcastically* “No problem.” *she turns to leave, then turns back* “What do mean, your eggs are missing? You can’t eat eggs.”

Me: “I’m not allergic to eggs. I’m allergic to milk.”

Waitress: “But they’re in the same place in the store!”

Me: *in disbelief* “I’ve yet to see an egg-laying cow. I’d like my eggs and DRY toast, please.”

(She comes back after ten minutes with cold toast and cold eggs, asks if anyone needs anything else, even though she looks like if we say anything we’re going to regret it.)

Me: “Sorry, my friends ate the last of the peanut butter. Do you have any more?”

Waitress: *angrily* “What do you need peanut butter for?”

Me: *bewildered* “For my toast.”

Waitress: “But you’re allergic! You said you were allergic to butter!”

Me: “Yeah, I’m allergic to dairy. There’s no milk in peanut butter!”

Waitress: *looking triumphant, like she’s calling me out on my ‘lie’* “Then why do they call it butter?”

(We did not leave a tip.)

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