The Cards Are Stacked Against You
(I’m 13 or 14, and I’m working at my lacrosse team’s bake sale.)
Customer: “Hi. Can I have a brownie?”
Me: “Yes, thank you. That will be a dollar.”
Customer: “Do you take credit cards?”
(Moment of silence.)
Me: “No… we don’t.”
Customer: “Why not?”
Me: “Ma’am, this is a bake sale.”
Customer: “Let me speak to your manager!”
Me: “I don’t—”
(My teammate walks over.)
Teammate: “What seems to be the problem here?”
Customer: “She says you don’t accept credit cards. Is that true? Are you the manager?”
Teammate: “Yes, I am. We’re getting a slot in half an hour. Thank you for your time.”
(The customer walks away, mumbling about insolent businesses.)
Me: “Well… that was odd.”
