The Cake Is A Cry (For Help)

(I work in a nationwide coffee chain and our store is right in the middle of a shopping centre, so we are quite exposed to anyone walking past. I’m clearing the tables as it’s quiet, and a friend of my parents walks past, so we stop and talk for a moment. He has a reputation to anyone who knows him to be extremely cheap, like turning up at someone’s house at dinner time, hoping to get a free meal, instead of cooking himself.)

Me: “Anyway, best get moving. Lots of work to do.”

(I raise the pile of dirty cups, trays, plates etc. in my hands.)

Friend: “Okay.” *spots piece of half-eaten cake on a plate* “Can’t let that go to waste.”

(He swipes the cake and walks off, eating it as he goes.)

Coworker: “Did he just do what I thought he did?”

Me: “I really wish I could say he didn’t. I knew he was tight, but d***!”

(We both shuddered at the thought. How could someone not only eat someone else’s half-eaten piece of cake, but also a complete strangers’ without knowing what they might have done to it, what germs had gotten on it, how fresh it was…)