My day was bad, really bad. First, my dog ate my lucky sock. Then, I found a scratch on my most important vintage board game piece, the green knight from “Quest for the Golden Goblet.” It was a limited edition from 1982. After that, work was just a mess. My boss was mad about something small, and the computer kept freezing. All I wanted was my usual rice bowl from “The Fresh Plate” place, with extra spicy chicken and a lot of the crunchy onions. I was tired. I was hungry. I was just ready for my day to be done.
I walked into The Fresh Plate. It smelled good, like always. The line was not too long, only three people in front of me. I pulled out my phone to scroll some until it was my turn. Then, I heard it. A voice. It was not loud at first, just clear and high.
I looked up. There was a girl, maybe nineteen or twenty years old. She stood at the counter, right where they make the bowls. She had a lot of hair, very long, dyed a kind of faded bubblegum pink that looked like it needed new color very soon. It was tied up in a messy bun, but some pieces hung down. She was wearing tight pants and a top that was also tight. She had a face that she probably thought was pretty, but her mouth was pulled into a hard line. She was a little round in the middle, but she acted like she was the thinnest and most beautiful person I ever saw. Her face was like she owned the place.
Behind her, at one of the small tables, sat a man. He looked older, maybe in his late twenties. He was on his phone, not even looking at her. He had a look on his face like he was tired, too. Like he had seen this before. He was her boyfriend or husband, I guessed. He did not look happy.
The girl was talking to the worker. The worker was a young guy, maybe younger than me, with a name tag that said “Manny.” He looked confused.
I heard the girl say something about how this was her “free bowl.” Manny was shaking his head.
She said, “No, it is. My last one was wrong. The chicken was cold. I called yesterday, and they said I get a free one today. With extra everything.”
Manny was polite. He said, “Ma’am, I do not see any note about a free bowl. Do you have a receipt or a name for the order you called in?”
She laughed, a short, sharp sound. “A receipt? Of course not. I threw it away. Who keeps receipts for cold chicken? And my name? It’s just ‘the customer who got bad food.’ Everyone knows me here. I come all the time.”
I looked around. Nobody else in line looked like they knew her. The people sitting at tables were trying not to look, but they were listening. The girl’s voice was getting louder.
“It was so bad,” she went on. “I almost got sick. My stomach was upset all night. You guys should be sorry. You should give me a free bowl, and maybe a free drink too, for my trouble.”
Manny looked like he was trying hard to stay calm. “I understand you had a problem, ma’am, but I need to see some proof. Or if you ordered online, I can look it up.”
“Proof?” She put her hands on her hips. Her voice was really loud now. “I am standing right here! I am the proof! Do I look like someone who lies for a free bowl? I am a loyal customer! I deserve this!”
The man at the table still did not look up from his phone. He just scrolled and scrolled.
My day was already bad, and this was making it worse. I just wanted my spicy chicken.
Manny looked over at the kitchen. Then he looked at the line of people. He looked like he wanted help. He said, “Let me just check with a manager.”
He walked away from the counter, toward the back. The girl stayed there, smiling a little bit, like she had won. She looked at the line of people, and her smile got bigger. Like she was proud of how loud she was.
After a minute, a little kid at a table near the window started to cry. Not just a little cry, but a big, loud, wailing cry. The kind that makes your ears hurt. The kid was probably three or four years old. His mom was trying to give him a toy, but he just screamed louder. Everyone turned to look at the kid for a second. The noise was so much.
The girl at the counter just frowned at the kid, then looked back at the line, like the kid was ruining her big moment.
Manny came back to the counter. He looked sad. He said, “My manager is busy in the back right now. She said she will be out when she can. But I can’t give you a free bowl without her okay.”
The girl’s face turned red. “What do you mean, busy? Is my free bowl not important? Is my bad experience not important? I am telling you, I am going to write a very bad review if you do not fix this right now.” She took out her phone. “I will tell everyone how bad this place is.”
Manny just stood there. He looked like he was going to cry too. He probably did not make enough money for this.
She huffed. “Fine. Just make my bowl. With extra chicken. Extra everything. And if it’s not free, I’m just leaving. And you can tell your manager I said so.”
Manny looked at the man at the table. The man finally looked up from his phone, just for a second, and shook his head very small. Then he looked back down.
Manny started making the bowl. He put a lot of chicken in. A lot of crunchy onions. More than usual. The girl watched him like a hawk, making sure he did everything she wanted. She was still huffing and puffing.
When he finished the bowl, he pushed it to her. She looked at it. She looked at him. Then she looked at the price on the screen. It was not free.
“Seriously?” she said. “You’re going to make me pay for this after all that?”
Manny just stared at the counter. He did not say anything.
She made a disgusted sound. “Whatever. This is ridiculous.” She pulled out a card and swiped it. The machine beeped. She snatched the bowl from the counter and stomped over to the table where the man was.
He still did not look at her as she sat down and started eating her “free” bowl. He was still on his phone, scrolling and scrolling.
The little kid was still crying very loud.
I sighed. It was my turn. Manny looked at me, and his eyes were wide. “What can I get for you?” he asked, his voice quiet.
I told him my order. He made it, not putting as much extra chicken in as he did for the girl, but I did not care. I just paid and took my food. I found an empty table far away from the screaming kid and the pink-haired girl. She was still eating, looking angry, but also like she was very happy she got what she wanted.
I ate my bowl. It was good, but my day was still bad. I thought about how she just got her way, even after making such a big fuss. It was not fair. But what could Manny do? His manager did not even come out.
I finished my food and got up to leave. As I walked out, I saw her, still at the table. She looked up and caught my eye. She gave me a little smirk, like she knew something I did not. It made me feel a shiver. I hoped I would never see her again. But my city is not that big. I knew I would probably see her again, doing something like this, getting her way. And I knew it would make my day bad all over again.
