Got Yourself Into A Bit Of A Pickle, Part 2

A lady comes in with her two kids and asks for three sandwiches, which I kindly proceed to make.

Firstly, I take care of the two kids with no problem; the kids are polite and tell me exactly what they want. Then comes the mom; she orders a footlong turkey. When it comes out of the oven, we start the veggies.

Our store policy is to change our gloves if we touch anything outside of the prep area so as to not contaminate, but to be courteous, I even change my gloves between sandwiches, so at this point, I have touched NOTHING but her sub. She leans over:

Customer: “Lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions.”

I put all of them on her sandwich, pickles LAST, and I then ask:

Me: “Anything else ma’am?”

Customer: “No.”

I go to close the sandwich in order to cut it. She loses it. She goes bananas and reaches over the counter, almost hitting me.

Me: “What’s wrong?!”

Customer: “You are disgusting! Change your gloves! You touched the pickles with those hands!”

Me: “But ma’am, there are pickles on your sandwich.”

Customer: “It’s not the same! That is gross; pickles are gross!”

Me: “Would you like me to change gloves, take the pickles off, or perhaps make you a new sandwich?”

Customer: “No! I want those pickles on there; eating isn’t the same as touching!”

I saw that arguing would be futile. I went on with her demand, apologized, and let her go on her merry way.

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Got Yourself Into A Bit Of A Pickle