(It’s towards the end of the lunch rush. I am washing dishes in the back of our café. I overhear an exchange between a customer and a coworker.)
Customer: *very politely* “Could I have a vegetarian pastie, please?”
Coworker: “I’m very sorry, but I’ve just sold the last one.”
Customer: “So, there’s no vegetarian pasties?”
Coworker: “No, I’m sorry. But maybe you’d like to try—”
Customer: “FINE! I GUESS I’LL JUST F****** STARVE THEN!” *storms out*
(My sister and I work in a bakery owned by our family; our grandma is the owner.)
Customer: “Hi. I’m the owner’s daughter. So, I can get my food for free, okay?”
Me: “Okay. I’ll call your mother in, okay?”
(The customer nervously nods. I call in my grandma.)
Grandma: “What is it?”
Me: “Oh, this customer says you’re her mum.”
(My grandma looks at the customer.)
Grandma: “I have never seen you in my life. Also, you look about twenty. So you could pass as my granddaughter, but not as my daughter!”
(The customer ran out quickly!)
Me: “Can I have three boxes of your half dozen assorted doughnuts please?”
Server: “Sorry, but they’re pre-packed and they only come in boxes of six or twelve.”
Me: “So… I can’t have a half dozen in a box, but I can have six?”
Server: “Yes, that’s right.”
(My coworker and I are discussing our avid distaste for the ‘Twilight’ books.)
Me: “I mean… even if you look past the story line, the syntax is poor, and the vocabulary redundant. I don’t understand how it even qualifies as literature.”
Coworker: “I know. What’s to gain from even reading it?”
(A customer approaches, and I take her order. As I’m loading a box of plain glazed donuts for her, I suddenly notice a teenage girl standing at the other end of the counter. She looks quite shy as she waits for assistance. She’s wearing a shirt that I can’t help but admire aloud.)
Me: “‘…and then Buffy staked Edward. The end.’ I love your shirt!”
Teenage Girl: *shyly* “…thank you!”
Me: “My coworker and I were just making fun of that series… what a coincidence!”
Teenage Girl: *nodding enthusiastically* “I know! I like, totally love Buffy! But I like, totally love Twilight, too!”
(I feel my smile freeze in place, and politely refrain from commenting further. The girl continues to chatter on about the vastly different vampire series.)
Teenage Girl: “And I like, totally have this Cullen jacket and some jewelry… and I wore them with this shirt last week and I was, like… all… opposite-y…”
Me: *smile still frozen in place* “I see…”
(I finish the other customer’s donut order and ring her up. The teenager doesn’t take the hint and continues to wax poetic about her conflicting interests, trying to hold my attention. My coworker, who has been present for the whole exchange, assists the teenage girl with her order for cookies. After both customers leave, I turn to my coworker.)
Coworker: “‘Opposite-y?'”
Me: “I think the word she was looking for was ‘contradiction.'”
Coworker: “Let’s blame Meyers for that.”
Me: “Case in point. Not much of a lexicon.”
(My mom, sister, and I go to a bakery to pick up a birthday cake for my dad. We had asked them to write ‘Happy Birthday Dad’ on the cake. When it comes out, the cake has ‘Happy Birthday Dead’ written on it.)
Mom: “No, we asked you to write ‘Happy Birthday DAD.'”
Employee: “Oh… I thought you said ‘dead.'”
(To this day, I’ll never understand under what circumstance anyone would want ‘Happy Birthday Dead’ written on their cake.)
