It was busy. Very busy. The place had long lines, for sure, and sound of many people talking all at once. I just want to order my food. I was so hungry. The air inside smell like fry oil and sweet soda. I was waiting, you know, for my number to be called for my order, holding my receipt in my hand. My stomach made rumbling noises. I look around, some people eat, some people wait like me. I was wearing my comfortable sweater, green color, and jeans. Just casual clothes. I don’t think about anything, just my food.
Then, a woman come up to me. She was standing very close, too close. My personal space start to feel small. She had a purse hanging on her arm, a big one. She just stand there, look at me. Her mouth, it was in a tight line. I think maybe she want to ask if this seat is free, but I am standing. So I just look back. She tap her foot on the floor, little tap, tap, tap. My nerves start to feel a little bit jumpy. I just want my food.
“Excuse me,” she say, voice little sharp. My head feel little jolt. “You going to help me or what? I been waiting.”
I blink at her. My brain take a moment to understand. “Help you?” I ask. My voice was low, little confused. “I don’t… I am waiting for my food, like you.”
She give a sigh, big one, like I make her tired. “Don’t act dumb with me. I saw you back there, talking to the manager before. Now, I need a new straw for my drink. This one is broke.” She hold up a plastic straw, and yes, it had a bend in the middle. My eyes just look at the straw for a second. My face start to feel warm.
“I am not working here,” I tell her. My words come out slow, like I need to explain to a child. “I just a customer. I don’t have straws.” My hands, they start to clench a little bit. I just want her to go away.
But she didn’t go away. She just shake her head, like I am being difficult on purpose. “No, no, you are working here. You in charge of something, I can tell. Your face, you look like you know things. Now, get me a new straw. And where is the bathroom key? I been waiting for that too.”
My mouth, it feel little dry. My annoyance level begin to rise. “No, I am not employee. I am just… a person buying food. Look.” I try to show her my receipt, the one in my hand. It was clear paper with my order on it, not a staff schedule. But she push my hand away gently. Not hard, but enough to make me pull back.
“Don’t give me that,” she say, her voice now more firm. “I know how this works. You just don’t want to do your job. It’s clear. Now, the key. And the straw. I need to go to the bathroom. And my drink, it needs a good straw.” Her demand feel like a wall in front of me. My muscles began to tense, feeling tight in my shoulders.
I could feel my temples throbbing, just a little beat. This was not making sense. How could someone be so… blind? I look around, trying to spot someone, someone wearing the uniform. There, near the counter, a young man, he was wiping down the counter. He had the logo shirt and a cap. An actual worker. My eyes go to him.
“Look,” I say, pointing with my chin toward the actual employee. “He is working. Not me. Ask him for straw. Ask him for key.”
The woman, she cross her arms. Her lips, they were even tighter now. “I am not asking him. I am asking you. You the one I saw earlier. You the one who supposed to help me. I don’t want to talk to that boy. He look busy. You, you just standing here, doing nothing. So help me.” She was dismissive of the real worker, like he was not important, but I was. It was strange logic.
My anger, it start to build like a hot wave. I could feel my face getting red. This was beyond crazy. “I am not working here!” I say, maybe little louder than I mean to. Other customers, they start to glance over. I feel embarrassment mixing with my anger. “I am customer! Just like you!”
She scoff. A real, loud scoff. “Oh, so now you raise your voice? To a customer? That’s real good customer service, isn’t it? I’m going to report you. I’m going to tell your manager you’re rude and you refuse to help. What’s your name?” She lean in, like she try to read a name tag I don’t have. Her breath, I could feel it on my cheek. It was too close. My personal space, it was gone. My hands, they were now balled into fists, hidden in my sweater pockets.
I felt a headache blooming behind my eyes. I just wanted to get my food and leave this place. This was becoming a nightmare. “I don’t have manager,” I say, my voice now tight. “I don’t have name tag. I am not employee.” I try to move past her, to step away. But she shift, block my way. Her body was solid in front of me. I could not just walk around her without bumping into her, which I didn’t want to do.
“Oh, you think you can just walk away from me?” she ask, her voice now very cold, very hard. “I’m not finished with you. You’re going to get fired, you hear me? Refusing to help a paying customer. Being rude. This is unbelievable. Now, last chance. Are you going to get me my straw and the bathroom key, or do I have to make a scene? Because I will. I have all day.”
My patience, it was completely gone. I feel a flash of something, like a spark in my brain. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I need to be clear. Very clear. I need to make her understand with facts, not just my words, which she seem to ignore.
“Listen,” I say, my voice low but firm. I put my receipt back into my pocket. “I am wearing my green sweater. This is not uniform for this restaurant. Look at employees. They wear different color shirts, with logo. My sweater, it has no logo. It is my own clothes.” I make sure she look at my sweater.
She just stand there, staring at my chest, then back at my face. Her mouth open little bit, like she think of something to say, but no sound come out.
“And,” I continue, my voice steady, “I have my purse. My own purse, hanging on my shoulder. Employees, they don’t carry their own big purses when they work, they work. They have tills, or trays, or things for work. I have my purse, full of my things, like my wallet. Not work things.” I point to my purse hanging on my arm.
She blink once, then twice. Her expression, it was still confused, but maybe less angry now. The tightness around her mouth, it loosen little bit.
“Also,” I say, taking out my receipt again, holding it up for her to see clearly. “This is my receipt. For my order. Chicken sandwich and fries. Like a customer. I am waiting for my number to be called. Employees, they don’t get receipts for food they buy at their own work, they work. And they definitely don’t wait in line like this for their food.” I hold the receipt so she can see the date and time and the order printed plain on the paper.
She look at the receipt. Her eyes, they scan the words on it. Her gaze move from my sweater, to my purse, to the receipt. Then, she look at my face again. This time, her expression was not angry. It was like a cloud had passed over the sun, and she was in a shadow, thinking.
She slowly lower her arms from being crossed. Her shoulders, they drop a little. Her eyes, they were wide, like she just woke up from a dream. The sharpness was gone. The anger, it just vanished from her face, leaving something like… perplexity. Her mouth, it open again, just a little, like she want to speak. But nothing come out. She just stand there, truly looking at me for the first time, not at an employee, but just at a person.
I just stand there too, looking back. The silence between us was long, suddenly. My headache, it start to recede. My tense muscles, they begin to relax just a little. She turn her head slowly, looking at the actual employees behind the counter, then back at me. Her face, it was just blank now. She turn her body fully away from me, and she walk, slowly, toward the counter where the young man was still wiping. She didn’t say another word to me.
