Of Callers And Communists

(I work as a supervisor in a small local bakery. On Fridays and Saturdays, I have two teenagers in the shop to help out and, while they have a lot of promise, they still have a bit of learning to do. This all happens within about ten minutes. The phone rings.)

Me: *busy prepping orders* “[Teenager #1], hon, can you just check the caller ID for me?”

Teenager #1: “It’s the ordering company.”

Me: “Ah, brilliant. Can you just pick up and tell them we don’t need anything until next week?”

([Teenager #1] picks up the phone and, without saying the name of the bakery or even, “hello,” he says…)

Teenager #1: “We don’t need anything until next week.” *hangs up*

Me: “Uh, okay, we’re going to work on your phone manner, hon.”

(Two minutes later, I’m coming into the kitchen from the shop front.)

Teenager #2: “Oh, [My Name], where is Stalin from?”

Me: “He was from Russia.”

Teenager #2: “Oh, yeah. So, [Teenager #1], Stalin was this really famous Nazi…”

Me: “Erm, he was a communist and a Soviet leader.”

Teenager #2: “Are they different?”

(At this moment, I notice a customer in the shop front and go through to serve them.)

Customer: “Can I get the doughnut with the um… ah… millions and billions?”

Me: “Oh, hundreds and thousands!” *what British people call sprinkles*

Customer: “Oh, yeah! Sorry, you must think I’m a right idiot.”

Me: *smiling wanly* “Not at all, sir. In fact, do you want a job?”