More Drawn Out Than Drawing Blood
A guy comes into our salad shop and he’s bleeding. It’s running from his arm, down his wrist, and dripping off of his fingers.
Me: “Sir, you’ve got some blood. Over there.”
He glances at it curiously, then looks away from it.
Customer: “I’d like to place an order.”
Me: “Sir. You are bleeding. It is all over your hand. You should seek medical attention. Or at least bandage that.”
Customer: “I’m fine. I’d like to place an order.”
Unfortunately corporate will probably be pissed at me if I tell him to go away.
Me: “Fine. I will not be accepting any cash from you if it’s smeared with blood, and I don’t want to have blood swiped into the card reader, so we are only doing a contactless payment. Your credit card can do contactless, correct?”
Customer: “Yes. I don’t get what the big deal is, but I can do contactless with my card. Is this a pandemic thing?”
Me: “No sir, this is not a pandemic thing. You are bleeding.”
Customer: “I said I’m fine.”
Me: “Tell me what you want, and don’t touch anything.”
He makes his order, I take the payment, and I sit him in the corner then pointedly mop up the trail of blood he left on the floor while my coworkers made his salad. While glaring at him passive-aggressively the whole time.
His order comes up, and I bring it to him. A little later he shouts:
Customer: “What’s the big idea, you can’t expect me to eat this salad?”
Me: *Fed up and out of patience with this guy.* “Why. The h***. Not.”
Customer: “There’s blood in this salad.”
Me: “It’s your own blood. You’re bleeding.”
Customer: “I’m fine. The guy who made the salad must have bled in it. he must have cut himself making it or something. I demand a remake.”
Me: “No. Get out.”
Customer: “You can’t do this to me! I’m a paying customer. I’ll sue!”
Me: “Get out.”
I went to grab the salad from him, but he hissed at me.
Customer: “No! This is evidence!”
He took the salad with him and left. I cleaned up the multiple handprints and drippings of blood he left on the table and chair and everything in that little area.
Well, his lawyers got in touch with our lawyers, and he took his salad to a genetic testing lab to prove it wasn’t his own blood for a lawsuit against us. Guess whose blood it was?
His. It was his own f****** blood.
