(I work in the bakery department of my local grocery store. One afternoon, a man approaches our counter.)

Me: “Did you need any help today, sir?”

Man: “Yes, I’m here to pick up a cake for my son’s birthday.”

Me: “Okay, what was the name the order was placed under?”

Man: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Do you know what the cake looked like? Anything descriptive?”

Man: “No, I have no idea. My wife ordered it.”

Me: “Okay. What’s your son’s name? That might help me find it.”

Man: “Oh, it’s Daniel.”

(I check both places we store cakes for pick-up, but we don’t have a cake for Daniel. I return to the counter.)

Me: “Sir, unfortunately, I’m not finding your cake back here. Is there a way you could get in touch with your wife and ask her about it?”

Man: *becoming annoyed* “I mean, I could call her, but all I know is she said to go to [Grocery Store Chain] at this time to pick up the cake. And this is the only store we ever shop at. We always come to this store. We never go anywhere else.”

(The store I work for has three locations within a three-mile radius, so it happens sometimes that people come in to pick up orders placed at other stores.)

Me: “Are you sure she ordered it from [Store #1], and not from [Store #2] or [Store #3]?”

Man: “No, we always do our shopping at [Store #1]. We never shop at any other grocery store or anything. It’s always here! Let me call my wife…”

(While he calls her, my coworkers and I sift through completed orders and future orders to see if it was glossed over, but we have no cakes for Daniel’s birthday. After about ten minutes of looking, I approach the customer again, and he tucks his phone away to speak with me.)

Me: “Sir, we don’t have any orders for a birthday cake for Daniel, from the past week or for the week coming up.”

Man: *getting angry now* “That doesn’t sound right! My wife ordered our cake from [Grocery Store Chain]! We don’t ever shop anywhere else! My wife swears she ordered it from [Grocery Store Chain], and we only shop at [Store #1]! We don’t shop anywhere else!”

(While he continues talking to his wife to try to figure it out, I head to the back and call Store #2 and Store #3, just to see if he’d come to the wrong one by mistake. After spending another ten minutes on the phone — now spending twenty minutes looking for his cake — neither of them have had a birthday cake for Daniel in the previous week or for the week ahead. I head back to the customer, who is now off the phone and seems completely calm.)

Me: “Sir, I called [Store #2] and [Store #3], just to double-check that your wife didn’t place the order there, and neither of them have a birthday cake for Daniel, either.”

Man: *as he’s walking away* “My wife ordered the cake from [Big-Box Department Store whose name sounds nothing at all like ours]. Have a good day!”

(My coworker, who is fairly new, answers the phone.)

Customer: “Are your rolls fresh?”

Employee: *uncertain sounding* “Well, I know they were baked on Monday…”

(To help her out, I’m whispering to here “yes, they’re fresh.”)

Customer: “I hear your manager yelling at you that they’re fresh. But I don’t believe you. Goodbye.”

(There is a family-run bakery near my house that my mother and I regularly go to. We walk into the bakery on a Saturday afternoon and see the owner’s oldest daughter standing at the cashier.)

My Mother: “Hello, [Owner’s Daughter]. Any fresh buns today?”

Owner’s Daughter: “Let me check.” *yelling towards the kitchen* “Mom, got a bun in the oven?”

Her Mom: *from the kitchen* “Interesting time for you to tell me sweetheart; congratulations. Now, what does Mrs. [My Mother] want?”

Customer: “Can you write ‘Happy Birthday Jorge?'”

Me: “Sure, how do you spell that?”

Customer: “Uh… W-H-O-R-E.”

Me: “Say that again?”

Customer: “W-H-O-R-E with an accent on the E. He is Venezuelan.”

Me: “…okay.”

I’m about six years old. I’ve been disabled since birth, so spending long hours walking around is too much for me. (Thank goodness for getting a wheelchair now! I’m free to shop ’til I drop!)

My mother decides that she wants to go shopping in a little town. I am less than enthusiastic, so she pops in to a bakery, tells me to sit, then leaves.

It takes a little while for the staff to realize she’s not coming back. They ask me where she is, to which I just shrug. I don’t know her number, nor do I have any identification on me. Unable to leave the store to search for my mother, they decide to keep an eye on me until she comes back.

Over the several hours she’s gone, I get bored. I look at the stuffed animals the bakery has for decoration, and (without touching them or getting out of my seat) I start to make up stories for them. The lizard is my favorite. The staff must have noticed, because the owner takes it down and lets me play with it.

Evening arrives, and my mother finally returns. She tells me to give the lizard back, but the owner insists I keep it. I don’t know what they said to my mother that day, but she was angry with me the rest of the way home. I didn’t get left anywhere after that.

To the bakery staff and owner, thank you for dealing with such an unexpected ordeal. I still treasure that lizard you gave me.