Put On That Plastic Smile

I’m a dishwasher at a nursing home. Today, they are serving loaded mashed potatoes and chicken cordon bleu. I pop out to the dining room to grab some dirty dishes off the table and a resident storms up to me, or rather angrily wheels up to me, clutching the to-go box that we give to residents that eat in their rooms.

Resident: “Do you work in the kitchen?!”

I worked retail for many years prior to this, so I put on my “customer service persona.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?”

Resident: “There were pieces of black plastic in my potatoes! I gave them to the guy to bring to the cook, but then there’s this stuff in my chicken!”

Me: “Ma’am, that’s just ham.”

Resident: “Well, still, there’s black plastic in my food! I don’t want it!

The resident shoves her box at me.

Me: “I’ll go ahead and throw this away for you. Can I get you something else to eat?”

Resident: “A grilled cheese sandwich!”

Me: “All right, a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Resident: “With pickles!”

Me: “That’s a grilled cheese sandwich with pickles. I’ll let the cook know.”

When I went and talked to the cook about it, she told me those “pieces of black plastic” were bacon.