They Come In All Kinds

I’m the bad worker in this story. I was taking orders at the front counter when my current customer started arguing with me. We went back and forth for a while until he finally said, “What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

Even though I knew I was supposed to make nice, I answered with something my husband says a lot: “I don’t know; how many kinds of idiots are there?”

He never said another word; he just paid and moved out of the way to wait for his food.

When I checked the kitchen to see why it was taking so long, the cook was on the floor laughing his a** off.