The Chicken Is Done, And So Am I

(My husband and I go to the supermarket deli to pick up dinner, and we get in line behind a lady picking out fried chicken pieces.)

Customer: “Are you sure that’s done?”

Deli Worker: “Yes, I’m sure.”

Customer: “It looks too light to be done. The outside should be darker.”

Deli Worker: “It’s done. It just came out of the oven.”

Customer: “Can you take out a piece to show me?” *to me* “Sorry this is taking so long.”

Me: *forces a polite smile*

Deli Worker: “Okay…” *takes a drumstick out of the hot case with tongs and holds it up*

Customer: “Let me see the inside.”

(The deli worker pulls apart the very HOT drumstick, wincing away from the heat several times in the process. The chicken is clearly white and cooked all the way through.)

Customer: “Let me see it.”

(The deli worker gives it to her. She proceeds to pick it apart and eat it.)

Customer: “I still don’t think it looks done, but I’ll take a dinner box.”

Deli Worker: *after the customer leaves* “Sorry for the wait. What can I get for you?”

Husband: “No worries. It wasn’t your fault.”

Me: *joking* “If I say the chicken doesn’t look cooked, can I get a free drumstick, too?”

Deli Worker: “I can give you a free sample, if you want.”

Me: “No, thanks.”

(We place our order.)

Deli Worker: “Have a nice day.”

Husband: “You, too. Hope the rest of the customers aren’t that difficult.”

Deli Worker: “Yeah… me, too.”

Me: “I think she used up the day’s quota of crazy.”

(After we check out, we hear our cashier ask another:)

Cashier: “What do I do with this box of chicken? The lady said it didn’t look done.”

Me: “Seriously?!”