Me: “Can I get eight ounces of the sliced ham?”

Deli Worker: “We can’t do that.”

Me: “Okay, how about half a pound?”

Deli Worker: “Sure thing!”

(Seeing the line for the deli stretch halfway through the produce section, I stand in line while my fiancé goes for the rest of the stuff. Every single person in line ahead of me goes through the same process.)

Customer: “Let me get some ham.”

Deli Worker: “What kind of ham?”

Customer: “Um… [brand].”

Deli Worker: “Okay… What kind? Honey glazed, regular, salt free?”

Customer: “Oh… uh… [type].”

Deli Worker: “How much?”

Customer: “Um…”

(This continues on, not just for each customer, but even when one customer has multiple items! I finally step up to the counter just as my fiancé arrives.)

Me: “Let me get 1/4 pound [brand] low-sodium roast reef, 1/4 pound [brand] low-sodium turkey, and 1/2 pound [store brand] American yellow, please.”

Deli Worker: “Ooh honey, you’re my favorite customer of the day!”

Fiancé: “What was that about?”

Me: “Apparently, I’m the only person here that thinks ahead!”

Customer After Me: “Let me get some… salami.”

Deli Worker: “Here we go again!”

Assistant Manager: “Did you make those sandwiches in the cooler?”

Me: “Yup.”

Assistant Manager: “You did them all wrong! They are totally f***ed up!”

Me: “What’s wrong with them?”

Assistant Manager: “The CHEESE goes on the TOP and the MEAT goes on the BOTTOM, godd*** it!”

Me: “That’s not what [Manager] told me last week.”

Assistant Manager: “SHUT UP!”

(He grabs the tray of sandwiches and throws it hard against the wall, putting a dent in the wall and spilling the sandwiches all over the floor.)

Assistant Manager: “Now pick that sh** up and do it RIGHT!”

(The next day…)

Manager: “Who made these sandwiches?!”

Me: “I did.”

Manager: “They’re all WRONG! You’ve been working here for two weeks and you can’t even make the d*** sandwiches right?!”

Me: “How did I make them wrong?”

Manager: “You put the cheese on top and the meat on the bottom! The cheese is supposed to be on the bottom and the meat is supposed to be on top, for like the millionth time!”

Me: “Well, [Assistant Manager]—”

Manager: “I don’t want to hear your excuses!”

(She dumps the sandwiches in the trash.)

Manager: “Make them again, the right way this time!”

Me: “I could have just fixed those. You didn’t have to throw them out.”

Manager: “Stop running your d*** mouth and make new sandwiches! GOD, we’ve been losing so much money ever since you started here!”

(The day after that, the assistant manager and manager are both in the deli at the same time. I hear my assistant manager talking under his breath about me to the manager.)

Assistant Manager: “Look at that dumba** [My Name] over there. He always f***s up the sandwiches.”

Manager: “I know! Every day he works, the sandwiches are all wrong!”

Assistant Manager: “Yeah. Plus, he put that dent in the wall.”

Manager: “That was him? [My Name]!”

Me: “Yes?”

Manager: “You did this?!” *points to the dent in the wall*

Me: “Nope. That was [Assistant Manager]. He did it when he threw the tray of sandwiches two days ago.”

Manager: “Now you’re lying and trying to get him in trouble?! I don’t even know why I hired you! I know it was YOU who threw that tray of sandwiches!”

Assistant Manager: “Yeah, what are you doing, blaming me for what YOU did? You can’t even make the f***ing sandwiches!”

Me: “All right, just so I understand once and for all, why don’t you show me the right way to make the sandwiches?”

Assistant Manager: “Don’t get smart with me. Your a** is already on thin ice.”

(He grumbles to himself the whole time, cursing me out in a low voice, but goes and gets the sandwich supplies.)

Assistant Manager: “Now, WATCH, and maybe you’ll learn something for once in your f***ing life.”

(My assistant manager starts making a sandwich with the cheese on top and the meat on the bottom, like he told me to do.)

Manager: “Whoa, whoa, [Assistant Manager]. What the h*** are you doing?!”

Assistant Manager: “What…?”

Manager: “The meat goes on top and the cheese goes on the bottom!”

Assistant Manager: “No, it doesn’t!”

Manager: “That’s company policy, and always has been!”

Assistant Manager: “They look better the other way! More people buy them this way!”

Manager: “Are you f***ing insane?! Stop doing it this crazy way and do it the way you’re supposed to!”

Assistant Manager: “This is the best way to do it, b****! I don’t give a sh** what corporate says!”

Manager: “I can’t believe I’m hearing this!”

(The two of them kept yelling back and forth at each other, throwing and smashing the sandwich supplies all over the place. After a minute or two, I casually started whistling, unfastened my name badge, dropped it on the floor, and walked out the front door. A month later, the deli was out of business.)

(Most delis have two slicer machines: one for meat and one for cheese. My coworker is cutting meat for an elderly woman who has placed a very large order, because she’s hosting a book club meeting at her house this afternoon. We’re chatting with her when a 40-something customer approaches the counter.)

Me: “Good morning. Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Hi. Could I get a half-pound of [brand] roast beef, please?”

Me: “Certainly. I’m afraid [coworker] here is using the meat slicer to fill this lady’s order at the moment. Could I get you any cheese in the meantime?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want any cheese.”

Me: “Okay, then. If you want to do some more shopping and come back in a few minutes I should have your order ready by then.”

Customer: “No, I don’t have any more shopping to do. This is the last thing I’m buying.”

Me: “I see. Then I’m afraid there will be a little wait while my coworker finishes cutting meat for her order.”

Customer: “What do you mean I have to wait? That slicer’s not being used, just use that one!”

(She gestures toward the cheese slicer.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s our cheese slicer. I’m afraid I can’t cut meat with that one.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not?!”

Me: “It’s a possible health hazard. They call it cross-contamination, and that’s what happens if I use equipment to prepare food for you that was just touching something you’re allergic to. Say, if you came to get cheese but were allergic to some kind of meat, the meat juice could get on the cheese you order and make you sick.”

Customer: “Well, I’m not allergic to any kind of meat or cheese. Just use the stupid slicer already!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that. Even though you might not have any allergies, some of our other customers might. On top of that, our management has a zero-tolerance policy for that. I could get fired for doing it.”

Customer: “Well, that’s an idiotic policy! I’m not other customers; I’m me! I don’t care what happens to your other customers! If they’re allergic to meat it’s just proof that God wants to get rid of them so they won’t inconvenience people like me!”

Me: “Well, I do care about our other customers, ma’am. And I’m going to ask you to please lower your voice and not tell them that God wants them to die, or I’ll have to call my manager over.”

Customer: “Go ahead and call him, smart guy! You think you know what God wants better than I do? I’ve gone to [Church] for 10 years!”

Me: “No, ma’am. I don’t think I know what God wants. Actually, I don’t believe in God.”

Customer: “You’re an atheist! No wonder you won’t just cut my f***ing meat! You were sent here by Satan himself to stop me! You’re just like Hitler or Saddam Hussein! Call your manager over here right now, so I can tell him there are demons casting spells over his meat!”

(Fed up, the elderly woman my coworker is serving slaps her own forehead and turns to the raving customer.)

Elderly Woman: “Miss, you need to hush your fat mouth up and let these folks do their job. They don’t need you hooting and carrying on. And I’ll have you know I’ve been attending [Church] for 40 years, and I know that over there they teach you to have some respect and decency! No wonder you don’t have any, because you can’t hear anything over the sound of yourself screeching! And whatever that young man believes about God is between God and himself, but God loves him no matter what.”

(The customer is silent, and then stammers angrily for a few seconds.)

Customer: “Well, he, uh… he should have just cut my d*** meat!”

(She storms out of the store.)

Elderly Woman: “Some people have no tact.”

Me: “Would you like to try a free sample of our [most expensive cheese], ma’am?”

Elderly Woman: “I’d love to, young man. God bless you.”

Me: “He already does, ma’am.”

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Me: “[Boss], I used up the last of the garlic making the potatoes. Do you want me to run across the street to [supermarket] to get some?”

Boss: “No, I’ll get it later.”

(Two days later…)

Me: “[Boss], I noticed you didn’t get any garlic yet. I’m running across the street to [supermarket] on my break. Do you want me to get some?”

Boss: “No, I’ll get it later.”

(Five days after that…)

Boss: “Why isn’t there any garlic? I can’t make potatoes! You have to tell me as soon as we’re out of anything! Why didn’t you tell me?!”