His Chances Are Cake Bombing

(I work in a small, local grocery store. I’m at the checkout, where I also handle lottery ticket sale and the small bakery section we have. It’s around Easter, and there is a glass display with cakes and the like. Customers usually decide what to buy whilst waiting in line. On this day, there are many people, and I’m handling them as fast as possible, but it still takes some time. A woman is in the line and is looking at the display. She has a boy around the age of seven with her, who is really more interested in the cakes. When she’s third in line, the kid suddenly speaks up.)

Boy: “Mommy, I want that one.”

(The woman can barely be bothered to look down, upon which she looks at a giant cream puff cake with brown icing on it. It’s larger than the kid’s head. It’s aptly named ”Easter Bomb,” and is identical to our ”Christmas Bomb” we had at Christmas, only this one has brown icing on it instead of white, with a lot of colourful sprinkles.)

Woman: “No.”

Boy: “But I want one!”

Woman: “You can’t eat one on your own.”

Boy: “You don’t know that.”

(He looks downright offended by now. It’s finally their turn, and they have A LOT of stuff. I ring them up, and it takes several minutes. All the while, the boy is getting more and more aggressive about the cake, and the mother ignores him completely.)

Me: “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Woman: *thinking* “Hmm, have you tasted the large cake?”

Me: “The Easter Bomb? Well, no, but I can tell you what’s in it. It’s a cream puff cake—”

Woman: *cutting me off* “If you haven’t tasted it, just never mind, then!”

Me: “Oh… Well, are you sure? It’s really just cream-filled and…”

Woman: *cutting me off again* ”Well, it looks like the one you had on Christmas, which I only bought once; it was terrible! I need to know if this one is better!”

Me: “Oh, you tasted that one? Well, you’re in luck, then; it’s actually—”

(Suddenly, the kid starts screaming that he wants cake, and that he NEVER gets to have any sweets at all, which I can tell is not true as the woman has bought several items of children’s candy.)

Woman: “Honey, I have just bought you…”

Boy: “NO! NO! NO, NO, NO! I WANT THE CAKE! THE CAKE! THE CAKE! THE CAKE!”

(The boy sprints back to the display, pushing other customers along the way. Neither of them says anything, and he starts pounding on the glass.)

Me: “Please stop that.”

(The kid doesn’t listen, and doesn’t care at all. The woman is showing no sign of actually doing anything about this, so I ask him repeatedly to stop.)

Woman: “[Boy], calm down; I’ll buy the cake.”

(The boy instantly stops and looks at his mom with the fury of a thousand suns.)

Boy: “You better.”

Woman: “And an Easter Bomb, please.”

(I hate when brats get their will, but knowing that it’s identical to the Christmas Bomb, I pack one for them and ring them up.)

Me: “It will be [total].”

(The woman pays whilst the son just stares at her in anger. When they’re done, and I finally get to the next customer, the son takes the bag with the cake in it and squeezes it. It’s visible that the cake is being ruined.)

Woman: “Sweetheart, no, be careful. You’ll ruin the cake, okay?”

Boy: “IT’S MY CAKE! MY CAKE! I CAN DO WITH IT LIKE I WANT TO!”

(Just as they walk out the door, I see the boy open the bag and find the cake totally smashed.)

Boy: “MOMMY, THE MEAN LADY RUINED MY CAKE! BUY ME A NEW CAKE!”

(The last I hear is the woman saying:)

Woman: “No, that’s your cake, and that’s what you get for being a brat.”

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