(I’m a cashier in the bakery section of a restaurant, and it’s a part of my job to get the bagels and pastries for people. It’s a pretty normal sort of day when a woman and what appears to be her boyfriend walk in.)
Me: “Hello, what can I get you today?”
Woman: *in a very thick accent* “I can get sess-me bagel?”
Me: “You want a sesame bagel, ma’am?”
Woman: “Yes, two.”
Me: “Two sesame bagels?”
Woman: “Yes. This. And cheese.”
Me: “You would like some cream cheese, ma’am? Just the one plain?”
Woman: “Yes. Cheese and tomato and spinach.”
(Tomato and spinach is a request I haven’t had before, but I know such things on bagels are pretty big in Europe, and I can do it for her, but I feel the need to clarify.)
Me: “You want spinach and tomato on your bagel, ma’am?”
Woman: “Yes! I come here many time. I do this many time!”
Me: “Okay, ma’am, I’ll—”
Woman: “I do this many time!”
Me: “Yes, ma’am. I understand. I’ll get that right up for you.”
(I head to the kitchen and have a line worker put some spinach and tomato in a to-go bowl and come back up front. I place the cup on the counter and turn to the boyfriend.)
Me: “Did you want anything, sir?”
Man: *in a fairly nice and polite voice* “Yeah, two of the cinnamon raisin bagels and one plain. Sliced and toasted… but only sliced on the plain.”
Me: “Yes, sir. Two cinnamon raisin sliced and toasted, and a plain just sliced. Did you want any cream cheese?”
Man: “Yeah, the cheesecake kind.”
Me: “Got it.”
(At this point, I have to ask the woman if her bagels are sliced and toasted, but she’s kind of scaring me, so I address the question to her boyfriend, who’s about to answer when the woman cuts in.)
Woman: “Yes, toast! I do this many times!”
Me: “Of course, ma’am.” *I make the last few punches on the register* “Anything else?”
Woman: “No! Make this.”
Me: “Of course, ma’am. Right away.”
(I bring up the total and the boyfriend pays as the woman walks away looking rather angry. I get that done and begin work on the bagels. Halfway through toasting them, the woman comes back.)
Woman: “He orders bagel?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am, he did.”
Woman: “Put in separate bag from mine.”
Me: “Of course.”
(The woman walks away again and I set back to toasting the bagels. I tuck the man’s in with his cream cheese, the napkins, and a single knife. I take special care with the woman’s, her cream cheese, and the little bowl of tomato and spinach, because I don’t want her to have any reason to complain. When I’m done, the boyfriend is there, and I hand him the bags with a smile. He nods and walks out. I go about my day in relief. Two minutes later, the woman comes back, looking angry, shaking her bag of bagels, and my heart sinks.)
Me: “Is there a problem, ma’am?”
Woman: “I have no way to spread cream cheese!”
(Now, I know I gave her a knife. I took special care to include everything.)
Me: “There’s a knife in the bag, ma’am.”
Woman: “No… no… How to spread cream cheese while driving?!”
Me: “You… you want me to spread your cream cheese for you?”
(At this point, I’m feeling pretty weak. The woman is all but screaming and I see a few of my fellow employees glancing at me with concern. It’s against policy to spread the cream cheese for a customer, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I refuse.)
Woman: “Yes! I come here many time! I come here many time and never see you! You know nothing!”
Me: “Okay, ma’am.”
(I take the bag and take out all the food to assemble it, veggies, cream cheese, and all.)
Woman: “You know nothing! I tell you to put in separate bag and you don’t do this! I come here many time and I never see you!”
(At this point, I’m trying hard not to cry or begin arguing back, and focus on my task. I peel open the cream cheese when…)
Woman: “Only one cream cheese?”
Me: “Cream cheese costs money and you only ordered one, ma’am.”
Woman: “One cream cheese for two bagel? No! You know nothing!”
Me: “Ma’am—”
Manager: “Is there a problem, ma’am?”
Me: *silently to Manager* “Thank you.”
Woman: “Yes! She know nothing–”
Manager: “Ma’am, we’re not allowed to spread cream cheese for you.”
Woman: “Excuse? I come here many time—”
Manager: “Ma’am, I’d like to ask you to please lower your voice, and we can work this out–”
Woman: “No! No! I come here many time but never again! I never come here again!”
(She begins reaching over the counter, scrambling for her bagels, getting very close to all the pastries.)
Me: “Ma’am–”
Manager: “Ma’am, you can’t reach behind the counter!”
Woman: “I never come here again!”
(And finally, with much screaming, the woman storms out, at which point I thank the manager and go back to work.)
Me: “What can I get you?”
Customer: “Just two cinnamon rolls. Are you all right, sweetheart? I mean, really, some people….”
(And that seemed to be the end of it. I left an hour before closing and had a crazy story to tell people. The next day I came back to work and heard an interesting story from my coworker.)
Coworker: “So, a bit past closing this night, this crazy lady came by. She sounded Russian or something, and she was screaming that she came here all the time and demanded to be let in.”
Me: “What did you do?”
Coworker: “Well, first I told her we were closed, then I told her that I wasn’t allowed to let her in, and after about five minutes I turned on the vacuum and just let her yell…”
Read the next bisexual-themed roundup story!
