Gluten In The Brain

(I am working at the customer service counter. My boss is in the back office, consolidating inventory counts. A lady comes storming up to the counter with a large package of bread in her hand, which she slams down in front of me.)

Customer: “I demand that you give me a refund.”

Me: “All right, do you have a receipt?”

Customer: “No, I don’t. I picked this bread up, and I got to the front, and I saw that it wasn’t gluten-free. I need my bread to be gluten-free.”

Me: “Okay. Well, did you pay for it with a credit card? I might be able to run the return through that way.”

Customer: “No. I told you: I got to the front and saw your bread wasn’t gluten-free.”

(It dawns on me that she might not be talking about the front of the store being outside in the parking lot.)

Me: “Ma’am, when you say front of the store, do you mean out in the parking lot or…?”

Customer: “No, I mean right over there.” *she points towards the registers*

(At this point, my manager has wandered out to listen to what is going on. He leans up over the counter.)

Manager: “Hi, I’m the manager of the store. I am understanding you properly, that you want me to pay you for picking up a loaf of bread off a shelf and carrying it up here?”

(The lady stood there for a moment, and it was obvious when her brain turned over. She immediately straightened up and marched out of the store, leaving the half-smashed loaf on our counter.)