(Up until recently, I worked in the bakery department of a deli/bakery combo in a supermarket chain. One of my coworkers is very short, and I’m just over six feet tall. If I am on my knees getting something from a bottom shelf, and she stands beside me, the top of my head still comes up over her shoulder. I have playfully harassed her about her height since the beginning, since she isn’t sensitive about it and the whole department enjoys teasing each other. One day after I quit, I am in to do some shopping, when she sees me.)

Short Ex-Coworker: “[My Name]! When are you coming back to work with me?! I miss you!”

Me: “Why? Is there something you need on a shelf?”

Short Ex-Coworker: “No!”

Other Ex-Coworker: “What about yesterday when you were trying to get that box of containers off of the top of the supply shelf, and it tipped over backwards on top of you and trapped you inside?”

Me: “HA!”

Short Ex-Coworker: “I keep forgetting how much I hate you both. One day, I’m going to have my revenge.”

Me: “I’ll order some shin guards.”

(I work in a small town bakery. Only two workers are present for the evening shift. Each time we hear the door chime, signifying a customer has entered, my coworker and I do rock/paper/scissors to see who has to help the customer. I lose this time.)

Me: “Welcome to [Bakery]! How may I help you?

Customer: *cough* “I’d like a dozen doughnuts.” *cough* “Six glazed, three chocolate cake, two apple fritters… no, no.” *cough* “Not that glazed doughnut! No, to the right. Down one more. Yes, that one.” *cough*  “Then I want that one. No, the other one.”

(There are about 60 doughnuts on a tray, and it’s very hard to see where she is tapping the glass from my side. She continues to be this picky about every single doughnut in the entire dozen, all while her coughing worsens.)

Me: “Will that be all for you?”

Customer: *begins coughing so hard, she can’t speak, she only nods*

Me: “That will be [total].”

(As she hands me the money, she coughs up a HUGE piece of mucus onto half the money and part of the countertop. I stand there, frozen and mortified.)

Customer: *very happily* “Keep the change!”

(She grabs the doughnuts and rushes out. I am still standing there, staring at the counter and money in my hand. My coworker and another customer have witnessed all of this.)

Me: “What do I do?”

Coworker: “She’s your customer. You clean it up.”

(I did. She became a regular and was always coughing like that. I refused to help her, rock/paper/scissors or not!)

My mother and soon-to-be step-father were getting married, and we were all out looking for a cake. We asked around and tried to find the best place to buy one, and wound up in a rather nice neighborhood at a fancy bakery.

We walked in and oohed and ahhed at all the good-looking cakes, and went to get ours custom-made.

As my parents ordered the cake, I wandered around until I reached a door in the back and looked through its window. Inside was the kitchen, and two men were baking. As I watched, one started to apply some icing, and when he ran out, he ran his fingers down and then LICKED the tool! Then, without washing it, he started putting more on.

Horrified, I went back to my parents and told them what happened. We quickly canceled the order, left, and didn’t go back.

(We offer loyalty cards where customers collect points for hot beverages and bread. Twelve points equal one free beverage/bread. In addition to that, all transactions on those cards are counted. From time to time, the computer will choose that a transaction will be free for the customer, if a card is used and has enough transactions on it. We have no influence on those decisions, and cannot see or calculate when the next one will be free. My customer is a sweet old lady, who has taken almost five minutes to check the prices of the sandwiches we offer.)

Me: “Hi. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “I’ll take a small coffee and one of those cheese sandwiches, please.”

Me: “Sure! That will be [amount]. Do you have a loyalty card with us?”

(I put her coffee and sandwich on the tray before her and take her money and card. When I slide her card, the register tells me this transaction will be free.)

Me: “Oh, seems like I don’t need your money today! Both will be on the house today, because we would like to thank you for your loyalty with us!”

Customer: “Oh! Okay, can I take a [more expensive sandwich] instead, then?”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t; it’s already in the register.”

Customer: “Oh, no problem. But I said egg, not cheese!” *The sandwich with eggs is more expensive than cheese.*

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll switch that out for you!”

(I do so, and the customer happily goes her way.)

Me: *to the next customer* “Did she really say egg? I could swear she said cheese.”

Next Customer: “She said cheese. Some people just can’t get enough…”

(When I was a little girl, my mother worked as a cake decorator in the bakery department of a well-known — on the east coast, anyway — grocery store chain. One of her coworkers is commissioned to make a birthday cake with an ice skating scene. The result is something my mom sings praises as the most gorgeous cake she has ever seen come out of that store complete with edible glitter to make the snow sparkle. Despite the fact that everyone agrees how beautiful the cake is and the fact that the customer says nothing when she comes to pick it up, she comes back to the store angry the next day to complain about it.)

Customer: “You put glitter on my cake!”

Coworker: “It’s edible glitter. It’s perfectly safe to eat.”

Customer: “There is no such thing as edible glitter!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, there is. If you want, I can go grab some and show you.”

Customer: “I had to completely scrape the top of the cake off just so we could eat it!”

Coworker: “You… scraped it?”

(The coworker wasn’t the only person who was devastated to learn that she had defaced the cake. My mom and all of their coworkers were similarly disheartened to learn that her gorgeous cake had been destroyed rather than enjoyed as intended.)

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