Might As Well Have Been Speaking French

(My husband and I are ordering lunch at a soup and salad place. He and I are both standing at the counter, ready to order.)

Cashier: *to me* “Hi. What can I get for you?”

Me: “I’d like the [special] with the tomato bisque and the chicken and bacon cobb salad.”

Cashier: “Okay, the tomato bisque and the chicken pot pie.” *starts to enter it into the system*

Me: “No, the chicken and  bacon cobb salad.”

Cashier: “Oh, sorry about that!” *corrects the order* “Would you like French or multigrain for your bread?”

Me: “French, please.”

Cashier: “That’ll be [price].”

Husband: “I’d like to order, too.”

Cashier: “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed you were sharing!”

(Their special comes with half sizes, not an amount of food you split between two people. My husband and I exchange a look.)

Husband: “Can I get the [special] with broccoli cheddar and the three-cheese pesto sandwich, please?”

Cashier: “Okay, that’s [price]. For here or to go?”

Me: *hands him my card* “For here.”

Cashier: *talking to himself* “Okay… to go.”

Me: “No, for here.”

Cashier: *hands the card back* “Oh, for here! Sorry about that.”

(A little while later, they called our order. He gave my husband a multigrain roll. Neither of us wanted to talk to the guy again, so I just gave him mine.)