The Power Of A Name

(I stop by the food court at my local mall to get lunch and choose a burger place. Everything is totally normal. I get my drink and wait for my food. They call my name, I get my bag, and it’s only after I sit down to eat that I realize something is wrong; I got my fries, but instead of a burger, there is a container of chicken nuggets. I glance at the receipt I got with the bag to confirm that it does indeed say I was charged for a burger combo, and then go back up. I’m nearly 40 years old, and none of the employees can be much over 20, mostly teenagers.)

Me: *walking up to the counter* “I’m sorry; I don’t think this is my food—”

(The employee doesn’t acknowledge me, but starts talking through the window to the guy in the kitchen. That’s fine; they’re busy, it’s loud, she may not have heard me before she started talking, and it sounds like they’re talking about orders, not just chatting. I wait for her to finish.)

Me: “Hi, sorry; this isn’t my or—”

(The employee practically shoves a new bag into my hands, fixes me with a disapproving stare, and says in her most weary, chiding voice…)

Employee: “Yes, because YOU took the order meant for [My Name].”

Me: “Yeah, because I’m [My Name]!”

Employee: *eyes get huge* “Oh! We… we must have mixed up the bags.”

Me: “Uh-huuuuh! How about that?!”

(I really wasn’t annoyed until she addressed me like a misbehaving toddler!)