Racist Brains Come Fried

I work at a very small family pizza place; we only have four workers who aren’t part of the family, and we only ever have four people working at a time as the kitchen is too small for more. Our restaurant has a Greek name but is owned by the sweetest Asian couple.

I am working the front, since I seem to get the best tips and have been told I have an amazing retail voice. It is one of my first ever nights working with just my bosses.

Me: “[Pizza Store] at [Location], how can I help you?”

Customer: “I want a medium pepperoni, onion rings, and Caucasian fries.”

Me: “Okay… so that was a medium pepperoni, onion rings, and fries?”

Customer: “CAUCASIAN fries.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, Caucasian fries?”

Customer: “Caucasian fries!”

Me: “We have French fries and seasoned fries. Do you want normal French fries?”

Click.