So I was at the burger joint the other day, you know, the one with the golden arches. I was just there to grab a quick lunch, nothing fancy. I’d already ordered and was waiting for my number to be called. I was looking around, kinda bored, and this lady comes up to me. She had a big purse and looked a little flustered.
She walks right up to me, like we were old friends or something, and says, “Excuse me, do you know where they keep the extra napkins? I can’t find any anywhere.”
I was a bit taken aback. I mean, she looked at me, and I was wearing my regular clothes. I’m pretty sure I didn’t have a uniform on or anything. But I figured, maybe she just needed help and mistook me for someone who worked there. So I pointed towards the counter. “They’re usually right there, by the drink machines,” I said, trying to be helpful.
She squinted at the counter, then back at me. “No, I mean, like, extra extra. The big dispenser ones. I spilled my soda and I need a whole stack.”
Now I was getting a little annoyed. My food was probably ready, and I just wanted to eat it. “I’m not sure,” I told her, trying to keep my voice level. “I just ordered my food. Maybe you should ask someone at the counter?”
She huffed, a sound like a deflating balloon. “Well, that’s just unhelpful, isn’t it? You’re standing right here. You should know these things if you work here.”
This is where I started to feel it. My jaw clenched. Who does she think she is? I’m a paying customer, just like her. “I really don’t work here,” I said, my voice getting a little sharper. “I’m waiting for my order.”
She just stared at me. Her eyes got wide, like a cartoon character who just saw a ghost. Then, she let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, you’re joking, right? That’s a good one. ‘I don’t work here.’ Very funny. Now, about those napkins…”
I felt a vein start to throb in my temple. “Lady, I am telling you the truth. I do not work at this establishment. I am a customer.” My voice was probably louder than I intended. A few other people in line turned to look.
She didn’t back down. Instead, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Look, I get it. It’s a tough job, and maybe you’re on your break, or trying to hide from your manager. But I really need those napkins. Just point me to the big ones, okay? It’s not that hard.”
At this point, my muscles were all tense. I could feel the heat rising in my face. This was ridiculous. I scanned the room, desperate for an actual employee. I spotted a kid in a uniform behind the counter, wiping down a table. “See that guy?” I said, pointing. “He works here. Go ask him. He can help you.”
She followed my gaze, and when she looked back at me, her face had changed. The fake amusement was gone, replaced by a look of pure fury. “Oh, so now you’re going to tell me what to do? You’re going to send me away? You think you’re so much better than me because you don’t work here?”
I just stood there, dumbfounded. My brain was trying to process this illogical leap. “No, I’m just trying to get you help from someone who actually works here!” I exclaimed.
She crossed her arms, digging her nails into her own skin. “I don’t need your help. I need you to help me. You’re the one who’s supposed to be providing customer service, even if you’re pretending not to. I’m going to report you for being rude and unhelpful. You’re probably going to get fired!”
I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated rage. My hands balled into fists. “I AM NOT GOING TO GET FIRED BECAUSE I DO NOT WORK HERE! GET AWAY FROM ME!”
She took a step back, but her eyes were blazing. She turned and marched directly to the counter, cutting in front of a confused-looking teenager. She started yelling at the employee, pointing back at me. “That woman! She refused to help me! She was incredibly rude and told me she didn’t work here! She’s been harassing me!”
The employee, a young guy who looked barely old enough to drive, blinked at her, then looked at me. I just shook my head, feeling a mixture of anger and disbelief. I was about to say something, but the manager, a woman with a stressed expression, came over. She’d clearly heard the commotion.
The lady with the purse was still going off. “She’s been sitting here, refusing to help me find basic supplies, and then she tried to tell me to go away! I want her banned from this establishment! I want her arrested!”
The manager looked from the lady to me, her eyes asking for an explanation. Before I could even open my mouth, the lady pointed at me again. “She’s the one! She’s the reason I’m upset!”
The manager sighed, a deep, weary sound. She walked over to me. “Excuse me, ma’am, is there a problem?”
I tried to explain, “She came up to me, thought I worked here, and when I told her I didn’t, she started yelling and then came to you…”
The lady cut me off. “She’s lying! She’s a lazy employee trying to avoid her duties! I demand you do something about her!”
The manager held up a hand to the lady. “Ma’am, please calm down. Let me handle this.” She then turned back to me, her expression softening slightly. “Are you sure you don’t work here?” she asked me, and I could see the faint flicker of doubt in her eyes, influenced by the lady’s performance.
I was so frustrated, I felt like I was going to explode. “For the last time, no, I do not work here! I am a customer! My number was called, and I was waiting for my food!” I gestured to the bag on the counter. “That’s my order!”
The manager looked at the bag, then at the lady, then back at me. The lady, seeing her attempt to get me in trouble failing, got even more agitated. “This is outrageous! I’m calling the police! This is unacceptable behavior! I’ve never been treated like this!”
And then she actually pulled out her phone and started dialing. The manager looked mortified. She tried to placate the lady, but the lady was beyond reason. She was practically shouting into her phone about “rude staff” and “theft of services” (which made no sense). Eventually, two police officers walked in, likely responding to a general disturbance call. The manager quickly explained the situation, and one of the officers, after looking at me and then the lady, asked her to step outside with them.
I was finally able to grab my food. As I was leaving, I saw the lady being escorted out by the police, still yelling about how she was going to sue and get everyone fired. I just wanted to go home and forget the whole thing ever happened.
