No Thick Crust For Crusty Old Bigots

(A regular at our restaurant comes in while I’m working the register. He’s about 60 and always smells like alcohol. He isn’t the nicest person. It is my first time dealing with him.)

Me: “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

(The regular walks the length of the counter, making sure he can see everyone in the back making pizzas.)

Me: “Sir? Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?”

Regular: “Sausage pizza.”

Me: “Okay. That’ll be [price].”

Regular: *pointing* “Is HE gonna cut it?”

Me: “Who?”

(The regular jabs his finger towards the 19-year-old coworker cutting the pizzas. He happens to be our only black employee.)

Me: “Yes, sir. That’s his assigned station for the day. Is that a problem?”

Regular: “If he’s gon’ touch it, I don’t want it.” *walks out*

Manager: “What happened? Did he order anything?”

Me: “No. He said he didn’t want it if [Coworker] was gonna cut it.”

Manager: “Hey, [Coworker]. Do you know that guy?”

Coworker: “Nope. Never seen him in my life.”

Manager: “Wow. I knew he was a little rude but I didn’t know he was racist.”

Me: “Why do we keep serving him?”

Manager: “We’re not allowed to refuse service to anyone, according to company policy, unless he ‘physically or verbally assaults an employee or customer.'”

(A few days pass until the regular comes in again. My coworker is working again, cutting pizzas, and I’m the cashier. My manager isn’t there.)

Me: *with a friendly customer service voice and huge smile* “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t serve your kind here.”

(The regular stares at me, confused. I just keep beaming that smile at him. Eventually he mumbles some racist and sexist slurs and walks out.)

Coworker: “HAVE A NICE DAY!”