Your Choice, From A List With One Option

My boyfriend and I decide to order pickup from a local breakfast place. The cashier seems ditzy and easily distracted. She asks us to hold at first and just never puts the phone down but speaks to other customers while the phone is on her ear; we keep thinking she’s speaking to us. When she finally tells us to go ahead, she keeps randomly stopping speaking to us and speaking to other servers and customers without putting the phone down or telling us. After a long time, we finally are almost done with our order.

Boyfriend: “The last thing is an order of French toast. It says, ‘Your choice of bread.’ Can we get brioche?”

Cashier: “Brioche buns?”

Boyfriend: “Oh, no, brioche bread for the French toast.”

Cashier: “I need to talk to my manager.” 

She sets the phone down without waiting for our response and doesn’t pick up again for several minutes

Cashier: “That’s a $3 upcharge.”

Boyfriend: “Um. We don’t want brioche hamburger buns made into French toast. We wanted brioche bread. Is that not an option? What can we get?”

Cashier: “Oh! I thought you wanted buns made into French toast. No, we don’t do brioche bread.”

Boyfriend: “That’s fine. What can we get?”

Cashier: “Oh, white bread.” 

We wait a moment, expecting other options, and we finally realize there aren’t any.

Boyfriend: *Sigh* “That’s fine, and that’s all for our order, please.”

When we picked up our food and started eating, I realized my French toast was pretty much just powdered sugar on the driest toast I’ve ever eaten — seemingly no egg or cinnamon in the equation. We haven’t gone back.