Some Bigotry Is Just Deep Fried In

I’m standing in line when the woman in front of me starts berating the cashier.

Customer: “It doesn’t smell fresh in here! You need to change your fryer oil more often!”

The cashier takes the abuse as politely as humanly possible, keeping her voice calm.

Cashier: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Customer: “You need to tell those Mexicans this is America, and we’re cleaner up here!”

The cashier says nothing, but I can tell she’s seething. The woman huffs, pays, and starts to leave.

I step up to the register.

Me: “I’m sorry you have to deal with miserable people like her.”

The woman freezes mid-stride and spins around.

Customer: “What did you just say to me!?”

Me: “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking about you.”

I turn back to the cashier and continue ordering like nothing happened.

The woman is not amused. It’s her turn to seethe.

My burger is great, and the fries taste nice and fresh.