A customer orders a toasted bagel with cream cheese to-go. I ring him out, and someone else makes it. I see him sit at a table and take out the bagel. No issue with that as many people order to-go so they can eat part of their meal and take the rest.

The problem is when he comes over to me and practically throws the bagel at me and onto the counter.

Customer: *Rudely* “You can have this back.”

He storms out before I can say anything. I am so stunned that I just stare at the bagel while my brain comprehends what just happened.

One of our usual third-party delivery drivers is nearby waiting for a large order that was being worked on. He sees what happens, and as the customer is leaving, he shouts after him.

Driver: “Hey, dude, what the f***?! Yeah, they can’t say anything, but I can! Throw your s*** out or say something if there’s a problem!”

As the customer turned around, I came back to reality and asked if there was a problem with the bagel. I don’t think he heard me because he was focused on the driver.

I don’t know what else was said between them as I went to grab a manager, but by the time I got back, both the customer and his bagel were gone. I know the driver works long days, so I thanked him and gave him a free beverage.

When I was eighteen, my parents came into the cafe where I worked to tell me that my dog (sixteen years old) had to be put down ASAP. They organised for me to have a break to say goodbye and be there while she passed.

Boss: “I need you to come back right after. We’re short-staffed!”

I came back. I was sobbing serving people, trying to make coffees, and begging for the rest of the day off when [Boss] loudly stated:

Boss: “It was just a d*** dog!”

Several people got up and left after giving me their condolences. One of them (a regular) made a comment to [Boss] on the way out.

Regular: “There don’t seem to be many people to serve now.”

[Boss] still didn’t get the hint.

This happened in October of 2021 at a large regional grocery chain near me. It’s the type of place with tons of gourmet and specialty departments, including ready-to-eat food and a little café area. The café includes a small gated-off outdoor space on the side of the building, which gets pretty busy as people are still hesitant to eat inside right now.

There’s also a hot food bar that changes each day of the week. Yesterday being Saturday (and gameday), the theme was chicken wings.

I am picking up my groceries for the week, minding my own business, when I am hit with the most divine smell I’ve ever known. Mind you, it’s a bit past noon and I haven’t eaten all day. The next thing I know, I’m following the smell like a cartoon thief chasing a pie in a window. I find myself at the hot bar and, possessed by a force far greater than myself, I load up a container of wings.

I check out, now fully entranced with the aroma of buffalo sauce and knowing full well that these wings aren’t going to make it home. I step outside, walk down to the end of the building, and sit down on the concrete ledge under the awning, and I go to town on my chicken wings. Like, absolutely unhinged, raccoon-out-a-dumpster, chowing the f*** down and not caring about anything else. Proudest moment? No. Would I do it again? Absolutely.

It’s bliss. Until, suddenly, my chickeny meditation is interrupted by that deliberate type of “agg-HUM” that sounds less like a polite throat clearing and more like an engine trying to turn over. I look up and see a well-dressed woman, probably in her mid-forties, sternly tapping her foot and pointing behind me. Confused, I look over my shoulder and see the “no loitering” sign.

I’m still not getting it. I’ve obviously got a cart full of groceries I just stepped out with.

Me: “I’m just enjoying my lunch before I head home.”

The woman is having none of it.

Woman: “Either eat in the designated café area or get out.”

Me: “All of the café tables are full, and I’ve just got a couple more wings.”

Then, she delivers the kicker:

Woman: “Figure it out before I call someone to figure it out for you.”

Fine. I stood up, gathering my wings and leaving the rest of my groceries. I walked the ten feet to the gated area, ducked between the metal railings (the gate was about ten yards down the way), looked pointedly around at the occupied tables, then sat my a** down on the concrete, and continued noshing my wings, looking this lady in the eye.

She tutted and pulled out a cell phone, ostensibly to call someone to “figure it out for me”, but either it was for show or they thought she was as nuts as I did, because I finished my chicken wings in peace, albeit among a sea of confused patrons.

No, I don’t know whether this woman worked for the supermarket or not. The more I think of it maybe she didn’t, since I don’t remember seeing a badge or lanyard or anything; she was just dressed nicely.

Was it technically loitering? H***, I don’t know. Those signs are usually put up around here to ward off panhandlers and other down-on-their-luck individuals. Morally, it’s awful, but legally, I think they can kick anyone off their property on any grounds

Yes, I’ll be going back. Maybe if I see that woman again, I’ll just eat progressively more outlandish things on the sidewalk. I think they have baby back ribs on the hot bar sometimes!

I read this story and came to think of mandelkubbar, a traditional and very tasty Swedish cookie that gets its distinctive flavour from bitter almonds, an almond that contains benzaldehyde and cyanide. Ten almonds are a lethal dose for a child, but you use like five almonds for twenty cookies. 

I worked in a student café that also did catering. We got an order for a huge amount of traditional cookies, among them 240 mandelkubbar that I had to make. I was almost done hand-grating roughly 100 bitter almonds into the dough when our new hire from the US passed by, snatched a handful of bitter almonds from my pile of not-yet-grated almonds, popped them in her mouth, and started to chew. Her eyes bulged and she nearly vomited from the abhorrent taste.

Most of the following is in English; [New Hire] doesn’t speak Swedish.

Me: “What on Earth are you doing?”

New Hire: “What are you doing?”

Me: “What?”

New Hire: “What kind of rancid f****** almonds are you putting in the cookies?”

Me: “Bitter almonds. They are not for eating like that.”

New Hire: “No, that’s f****** poison!”

Me: “It’s not poison! They’re supposed to taste like that.”

[Colleague], who is really bad at reading the room, spoke up.

Colleague: “Fun fact! They are poisonous! They contain a high dose of hydrogen cyanide, which—”

New Hire: *To me* “So, you are putting poison into the cookies! F****** psychopath!”

Me: “No, wait! Stop—”

But it was too late. She thwomped the bowl of cookie dough with a swift punch, and my precious cookie dough landed face-down on the floor. I stood dumbfounded at the wasted work and the sheer stupidity of it all. My manager burst into the room.

Manager: “What the f*** is going on?”

New Hire: “He puts poison in the cookies! He wants to poison our guests!”

Me: “I am not poisoning anyone, you idiot! Mandelkubbar are supposed to taste like that!”

Manager: “Wait, is this about the bitter almonds?”

New Hire: “He puts cyanide in the cookies!”

Manager: *To me, in Swedish* “Can you go buy new bitter almonds? I’ll talk to you when you get back.” *To [Colleague], in Swedish* “Can you clean up and get a new dough going?” *To [New Hire], in English* “Come with me. We need to talk.”

We all did as we were told, and I got a chance to cool off.

[New Hire] had been fired when I returned; she had refused to acknowledge that she’d done anything even slightly wrong. We laughed it off, I grated a further hundred almonds, and the mandelkubbar turned out perfect.

My manager and I were having a few cookies and a cup of coffee when a pair of confused police officers marched into the café.

Police Officer: “Do you work here?”

Manager: “I am the manager. How can I help?”

Police Officer: “Well, we need to inspect your café, and—”

Me: “Is this about an accusation that we are putting poison in our cookies?”

Police Officer: “I cannot tell why we are here. But… are you putting poison in the cookies?”

Me: *Laughs* “Technically, yes. Did you know that mandelkubbar are poisonous?”

We recounted the story. The officers did some kind of inspection and ended up leaving with a pair of mandelkubbar each, giggling about the absurdity of it all.

Related:
Maybe Almond Extract Would Be Better?

I was working the register/coffee machine in the takeaway window when a customer who had already ordered and eaten came up to me to compliment our coffee and food. We were making small talk when she switched topics.

Customer: “I have a serious question to ask you.”

I was worried that I’d done something wrong.

Me: “Oh, okay. What is it?”

Customer: “Are dogs bilingual?”

Now I was sure I’d misheard.

Me: “…what?”

Customer: “Well, there’s a lady over there talking to her dog in Chinese, and I was wondering… if I went over and talked to her dog in English, would it understand me?”

I wish I was making this up!