I worked in a deli. This lady came in every couple of weeks for “about $20 worth of very thinly sliced Prosciutto” — her exact words — and she wanted a plastic deli sheet between each paper-thin slice of meat. It took a couple of minutes to do when most customers could be helped in under a minute.

We would prepare it for her while she stared daggers at us. We’d nicely bag it for her, and multiple times in front of the counter (while other customers were waiting) she’d open the bag and check to make sure we didn’t put two slices between a plastic sheet instead of one.

Once she was satisfied, she’d walk away. No thank-you, no acknowledgment of the time it took, and no apologies to the customers waiting while she blocked the counter. She was so rude.

One time, someone “sliced her meat too thick” (after she approved the slice) and she made him do it all over again.

We are on the east coast of the USA.

Customer: “Is this wreckfish east coast or west coast wreckfish?”

I gesture to the sign that says, “Local Item”.

Me: “It’s local! We just got it in.”

Customer: “Sooo… it’s…”

Me: “It’s east coast wreckfish.”

Customer: “You really should put that on the sign. Might sell some more.”

As a young boy, I daydream a lot and lose track of what I am doing. One day, my gran sends me to a local deli to pick her up a roast ham, and apparently, I am a little extra spacey that day.

The shop is organised so that you order your meats at the back of the shop but pay at the front. I order the ham, look at some of the magazines and other produce, and then start to daydream. I walk out of the shop, still on a completely different planet, and am surprised by a hand gripping my shoulder a few moments later.

Cashier: “HEY! What do you think you’re doing?”

Me: *Genuinely confused* “What do you mean? I’m just taking this to my Gran.”

Cashier: “You haven’t paid for it!”

Yup, I had been so lost in my thoughts that I forgot I hadn’t paid for the ham and just wandered out the door next to the cashier!

Me: *Now in a complete panic* “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! I forgot that I didn’t pay the butcher for it. I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to steal it. Can I come in and pay for it now, please?”

The cashier eyed me suspiciously for a moment but must either have decided to give me the benefit of the doubt or that it was just less hassle to let me pay for it. Either way, I was taken back inside and allowed to pay for it before being sent on my way with a story to tell my Gran.

Customer: “Is there gluten in these crab cakes?”

Me: “It doesn’t say, ‘gluten-free,’ so it’s likely.”

Customer: “Trying to eat gluten-free is really hard.”

Me: “Yeah, my mom had issues with gluten and she says the same thing.”

Customer: “You know, if she had issues with gluten, then you probably have issues with gluten, too.”

Me: “Um… yeah. It’s probably coming.”

Customer: “You already have it!? That’s where this—” *pointing at my stomach and indicating the size* “—comes from.”

Me: “So, anything else I can help you with?”

Related:
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought, Part 6
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought Part 5
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought Part 4
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought Part 3
Free Of Gluten, Free Of Thought Part 2

Customer: “This is bulls***!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “They make you work on Thanksgiving! You got family in town?”

Me: “I do.”

Customer: “That’s f***** up. You should be there! Corporations have too much power. They shouldn’t get in between you and your family.”

Me: “Thanks, but it’s not that bad. I get off around two and then I get to go to my family’s place.”

Customer: “F***** up, man.”

We stand in silence for a few seconds.

Me: “Um… anything else?”

Customer: “Yeah. Can I get half a pound of beef?”