Licked Clean(er)

| MO, USA | Right | May 1, 2015

(A woman and her young child are standing in line, looking at the baked goods on display in glass cases. The child begins licking the glass.)

Coworker: “Uh, ma’am? Could you please keep your son from licking the glass?”

Female Customer: “Don’t worry about it. He’s not hurting anything.”

Coworker: “Maybe not, but I just cleaned the glass, and I’m fairly sure the cleaner is toxic when ingested.”

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Very Crepe At Describing Things

| Toronto, ON, Canada | Working | April 26, 2015

(We had just started up a 2-for-1 sale with our crepes and had seriously misjudged how many people would show up for it. As such I’m the only person scheduled who can make crepes. My boss isn’t that great under pressure. I’ve got about ten crepes to go through at this point, while I’ve got three cooking in front of me.)

Boss: “[My Name]! Did you get the things for the people?!”

Me: “What?”

Boss: “The things! For the people! Did you get them?!”

Me: “What things for what people?”

Boss: *fumbles through all my tickets* “Never mind.” *wanders away*

Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 9

| Boston, MA, USA | Right | April 17, 2015

(I own a small bakery/coffee shop in Boston. I have three bakers and one barista, as our customer quantity isn’t very high. It’s my barista’s day off, so a baker and I have been rotating between performing her duties and our own.)

Customer: *looks at menu* “Give me a large [smoothie], two cinnamon buns, and a loaf of bread.”

Baker #1: “Yes, sir. Anything else for you today?”

Customer: “Yeah, I want a…” *trails off*

Me: *pokes my head out of the kitchen door* “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but my baker is needed elsewhere. [Baker #1], [Baker #2] needs your help.”

Baker #1: “Okay.” *heads to kitchen*

Customer: “I want a specialty coffee with that.”

Me: “Of course, sir. Anything else?”

Customer: “No. And I’m the owner’s husband, so I get free food.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

Customer: “What, b****? You’re not going to give me my food? What makes you so special, you little s***?”

Me: “Sir, I refuse to give you free food. You have no connection with the owner.”

Customer: “F*** you. I demand to see the manager.”

Me: “Of course, sir.”

(I go into the kitchen and send Baker #1 out. I hear the man curse some more and demand to see the owner. Baker #1 re-enters and tells me to go back out.)

Me: “Hello again, sir. I hear you wish to speak to the owner.”

(The man stuttered, turned red, and ran off without taking his food.)

Related:
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 8
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 7
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 6

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Mom’s Attitude Floored You

| Edinburgh, Scotland, UK | Right | April 10, 2015

(A small boy, aged about six or seven, and his mother approach the counter.)

Mother: “What cake would you like?”

Boy: “That one.” *points to the last chocolate éclair in the shop*

(As I am taking it out of the display, I drop it on the floor.)

Me: “I’m so sorry. That was the last one we had.”

Mother: “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll take it anyway.”

Me: “I really can’t sell it to you; it’s been on the floor. I’m sorry.”

Boy: *excited* “Wait. Mum, you’re going to let me eat something that’s been on the floor? Really? Oh, wow, that’s great. Thanks, Mum! Wow!”

Mother: “I don’t usually let him…”

(I just gave them the cake.)

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Must Be Super Baked

| USA | Right | March 27, 2015

(Our bakery is designed so that customers can see me working. There are large signs proclaiming BAKERY right above the employee door. One day I am bent over doing some intricate detail work on a trim. I am clearly wearing our uniform and appropriate apron.)

Customer: “Do you work in the bakery?”

(I don’t immediately respond, thinking they were addressing my coworker who is right there out on the sales floor.)

Customer: “Excuse me! Do you work in the bakery?”

Me: *look up with a slightly incredulous look on my face* “Yes. What can I help you with?”

(The customer asks a question which I cheerfully answer and they leave. I immediately start laughing. My coworker gives me an inquisitive look.)

Me: “I don’t know why I keep getting that question. Next time I’m going to panic and say ‘OH, GAWD, I’M SLEEP-DECORATING AGAIN! How did I get here?!'”

(We laughed and shook our heads and continued working in our bakery, which we then dubbed ‘The Fakery.’)

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