Unable To Deli With It

I work in one of those family-owned delis that have been in Manhattan as long as there has been a Manhattan. These places are held up by an unflappable matriarch, tradition, and not taking any BS.

As we’re close-ish to Wall Street, we get a lot of business and finance types who probably make more in a day than we make in a year, but most of them are quite grounded.

Then again, we sometimes get guys like this:

Customer: “I want the bagel but replace [common ingredient] for [uncommon ingredient].”

Coworker: “Can do, but we’ll need to cook that separately as it’s not a usual order. Will take six to seven minutes; that okay?”

Customer: “No, that is not okay! I am an important man with important business, and I have places to be!”

Coworker: “Then I recommend ordering something from the regular menu, like the salted beef—”

Customer: “—Are you seriously telling me what I should be ordering… me!?”

Coworker: “Well, I ain’t talking to anyone else right now.”

Customer: “Do you not know who my father is?!”

Coworker: “Not as well as I know your mother. When we were finished, she told me to tell you to stop being a whiny little b**** and just order like a regular chump.”

Oh my god, this guy saw red. I thought he was about to jump over the counter, but then the coworker’s brothers behind him all stepped forward to back him up.

Coworker: “I don’t care who your daddy is. Mine owns this place, and my mamma runs it. If you wanna tussle with me, you tussle with all of us.”

The guy shouted something incomprehensible about suing them, profanities, and lots of ‘wait until my father hears about this’. I honestly thought those kinds of entitled brats only existed in TV shows, but it took less than a month of working in a Manhattan deli to sadly be proven wrong.