(I work in a small cafe that is basically a glorified deli. Along with the sandwiches, we have things like soup, salads, pizza, nachos, and pretzels, as well as an extensive retail section. Our nacho cheese machine is down so we have taken nachos off our menu for the time being. We probably only sell about ten orders of nachos a week. They’re literally just chips and cheese; there is nothing special about them. This customer works for a different department in the same building as the cafe.)

Customer: “Do you guys still have the nachos today?”

Me: “Unfortunately, our cheese machine is down; we’re waiting on a replacement.”

Customer: “So, you don’t have nachos?”

Me: “No. Sorry.”

Customer: “Then what exactly do you have?”

Me: “Um, sandwiches and soup… pizza…”

Customer: “That’s it? What’s the point of even being open?”

(The customer then turns and stomps out, leaving me confused. Twenty minutes later, my supervisor comes in — her office is in a different area. I have a line and I’m in the middle of making a few sandwiches.)

Supervisor: “I just got an email saying you were completely out of food and not serving anything.”

(I explained to her about the nacho lady and she just rolled her eyes. The next day, we got a replacement cheese machine on loan from another cafe until ours came in.)

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Customer: “I’d like a pound of roast beef shaved, please.”

Me: “Do you want that shaved as in ‘really thin’ or as in ‘shredded?’”

Customer: “Shaved.”

Me: “But do you want it like, falling apart or more together?”

Customer: *starting to become physically annoyed* “Shaved. For my dog.”

Me: “Okay, how about I do the first slice and show it to you to make sure?”

(I slice a piece off and hold it up for her inspection. She approves. I print the sticker.)

Customer: “That’s not shaved.”

Me: *visibly confused* “Oh, you said this was okay, but I can redo it if you want…”

Customer: “No. I’ll take it, but it’s not shaved.”

Me: “Okay.”

(It’s a busy day and I’m by myself in the deli. I’m running between serving customers and trying to take chickens out of the oven. A man comes up and waits by the chicken warmer until I’m done serving everyone else.)

Customer: “Hi, my wife bought this chicken about an hour ago and there’s no breast.”

Me: “Oh, wow, I’m sorry. that’s really weird!”

(He hands me the chicken and I take a look.)

Me: “Um… You do realise it’s upside down?”

(I flip the chicken and yup, it’s upside down; the breast is there.)

Customer: “Oh… I’m so sorry… I’ll just take it back.”

Me: “Nah, it’s cold and squishy now. Take a fresh one anyway!”

(I took a fresh chicken out of the oven and gave it to him. It was worth wasting a chicken for the laugh he gave me. I just wonder what he said to his wife when he got home!)

(We have lost two coworkers in the last three weeks, leaving us severely short-staffed. My manager has been riding everyone about their work but in a manner reminiscent of a dog barking at shadows; it’s ineffective and annoying at best. Shortly after I clock on for the final closing shift of the day, she approaches me.)

Manager: “When was the salad case last vacuumed?”

Me: “Well, at worst I did it the last time I worked the final shift last week. I don’t know about [Other Coworkers] since I leave before they do.”

Manager: “Oh, really?”

Me: “Yes?”

Manager: “Well, I was told the vacuum was broken.”

Me: *baffled* “If it’s broken, I had no idea about it. It’s been working fine.”

Manager: “Well, one of the service-clerks up front said it was broken.”

Me: “Huh. I’ll check it out.” *retrieves the mini shop vac in question, plugs it in right in front of her*

Manager: “This was like two weeks ago.”

Me: “Oh, heck no. I just used this in the last four days.” *flips the power switch and fires it up just fine, turns it back off* “Seems fine to me.”

Manager: “He said it had no suction.”

Me: *flips the vacuum back on and proceeds to show it has perfectly fine suction by sucking my glove visibly away from the palm of my hand while looking her dead in the eye* “Yep, still working.”

Manager: “Maybe he was wrong.”

Me: “Eh, maybe the hose was clogged, but I’ve cleared and washed it a few times in the last couple of weeks.”

Manager: *walking off* “Well, the case wasn’t vacuumed last night.”

(It wasn’t until hours later after she left that I realized she had called me out in front of my coworkers, expecting to catch me in some two-week cleaning lie, and was disappointed it backfired. This is made all the more ridiculous by the fact that I had only worked the final shift requiring the shop vac four times in those two weeks.)

(My doctor has me on a restricted diet, which includes disallowing garlic and garlic powder. Yeah, it sucks. But if I eat it, I risk lying on the ground in agony and restarting my eight weeks of treatment. I am going grocery shopping and see a special on burgers.)

Deli Worker: “Let me know if you have any questions!”

Me: “Do the steak burgers have anything besides beef, salt, and pepper in them?”

Deli Worker: *upbeat and confident* “Nope! When it says, ‘salt and pepper,’ we mean only salt and pepper!”

Me: “Great! I’ll take eight.”

(It’s a friendly and helpful interaction, and I’m happy… until I get home, and my grocery bag smells distinctly of garlic. I read the printed sticker on the burgers:)

Ingredients: “Steak, salt, pepper, garlic, rosemary, other spices.”

(Great. I need to go back — a forty-minute round trip — and return these. I hate to ask for a manager but I figure next time they might accidentally kill someone by misinformation. I explain the issue to them during the return.)

General Manager: *stares at package* “You’re allergic to what?”

Me: “Garlic. But I was specifically told it only has beef, salt, and pepper when I bought it.”

General Manager: “Oh. People make mistakes, y’know?”

Me: “I could have been really ill if I hadn’t read that before eating it.”

General Manager: “Well, with that kind of allergy you really should check the packaging.”

Me: *sarcastically* “Silly me for trusting the people who work the deli counter.”

General Manager: “Yeah, well, sometimes we have new people… I guess I can go back and talk to them but you should really read the packaging.”

Me: “Good thing I did?”

(So, next time they accidentally land someone in the hospital, know that I tried. I really did.)

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10 Cheesy Stories About The World’s Most Perfect Snack: Nachos

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