This Guy Really Burns My Cookies 

, , , , | Right | August 19, 2019

(I’ve been working as lead baker for a small restaurant in the hospital for about a year now. I know all the tricks and shortcuts to make all my delicious pastries taste and look just right by my employers’ standards. I arrive for my shift at midnight and am escorted into the hospital by security like always. Somewhere in the background, I hear a man calling, “Hey! You b****!” I calmly continue walking and get into the building and start my shift at 12:30. By five, all my baking is done, but my top oven has been glitching lately and we’re waiting on a new part; sometimes it cooks the cookies too crispy and sometimes they never look done. Later in the morning, I take the cart upstairs only to be accosted by that same man. Security comes walking over while he’s screaming at me.)

Man: “You b****! How f****** dare you?! You w****!”

(I am very calm because security has his hand on the gun.)

Me: *in my nicest voice* “Sir, what can I help you with?”

Man: “Your f****** store isn’t open.”

Me: “Yes, sir, we open at seven, and it is now five-thirty, so I can set up so we’re ready at seven.”

(I bid him a nice goodbye and go into the store with security blocking the door until my coworkers come in. After everything is set up, I get ready to eat my lunch: a salad with a water and bag of small carrots. I sit down to eat and this customer comes up again while I’m on break and clocked out.)

Man: “Your cookies are burnt! What the f*** are you going to do about it?! How stupid do you have to be to burn cookies?!”

(Very slowly I stand up, and calmly say:)

Me: “I am on break so I don’t have to talk to you, and not only did you attempt to harass me before I even got into the hospital to start work, you also harassed me when I was setting up the store and now, when I’m on my break, to complain about cookies? Cookie done-ness is in the eye of the beholder; I think those cookies are too soft while my brother likes his like thawed dough. So, if you have a problem with my cookies, I’ll sell you the dough, and you can make them yourself. Now. My boss is coming over with three security guards to deal with you; may I continue to eat my lunch unmolested?”

(He turned beet red and stormed off. A few days later, he came back with a note apologizing for his rude behavior and his wife had made “Sorry my husband is an idiot” cookies. Chocolate chip. My favorite. Yay, learning lessons!)

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