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.”