Stealing On The Lord’s Day

(I work at a restaurant that is closed on Sundays. We’re a national chain and most people know we are closed on Sundays; it’s been that way since the chain first opened years ago. All of our restaurants advertise this fact on their signs. Also note, our drive-thru does not open until 6:30 am each morning and we do not start serving lunch and dinner foods until 10:30 am. It’s Monday around 3:00 pm and I have taken orders for a man and his wife. They are very friendly regulars, so the manager and I are chatting with the couple, since there’s not much else to do right now. The phone rings and my manager answers it.)

Manager: *after listening for a minute* “Oh, well, I’m very sorry that happened. When did you say you came through?”

(He gives me and the regular customers an exaggerated wink, so we start paying attention.)

Manager: “You came in yesterday?” *pause* “As in yesterday, [date]?” *pause* “Okay, so you came through Sunday morning at what time?” *pause* “6:15 am?” *pause* “And your fries were soggy?”

(The customers are smirking at each other and I’m trying not to laugh, either.)

Manager: “Did you happen to keep your receipt?” *pause* “No? I’m sorry, but we can’t replace your order then.” *pause* “No, I’m sorry.” *pause* “Why? Well, we generally don’t open until 6:30 am, except for Sundays when we’re closed all day, and we don’t serve lunch in the mornings. Can I–” *looks over at us* “Well, they just hung up on me. I doubt they’ll call back.”