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Hot Dog Lady

Ah, hot dog lady. I was alone for about an hour today because Oliver had an appointment. No biggie, it was quiet. I served a woman a panini. Then, as I was washing dishes, another woman came in. She looked at the breakfast menu, and I gently told her that we weren’t serving breakfast any more. So then she started perusing the lunch menu. Then we had the following conversation:
Lady: How do you make your hot dogs?
Me : On a grill? (not sure if she meant how do we cook it or if she thought we made the hot dogs by hand, and wanted to know how we stuffed the meat into the casings)
Lady: Are your hot dogs made with fat?
Me (unsure of what she is asking): Uh, I’m not sure. I assume so.
Lady: Who makes the hot dog? Do you make the hot dog?
Me: Yes
Lady: And you don’t KNOW if it’s made with fat?
Me (still not sure what she means. Does she want a fat free hot dog?) Well, they’re made with oil, if that’s what you’re asking.
Lady: Ah. What kind of oil? Vegetable oil? It’s vegetable oil, isn’t it?
Me: Yes, I think so.
Lady: Vegetable oil isn’t good for you.
Me (thinking, I don’t purchase the oil, and shrugging sort of apologetically) Well, it’s cheap. (In retrospect, maybe not the best answer, but I thought this woman would get that the oil is bought based on it’s price point, y’know, because we as a business have to make money.)
Lady: Well, it isn’t very cheap if it’s killing your customers. (Seriously, what??? Also, I STILL am not the one buying the oil! I JUST work there!)
Me: Uh, sorry?
At this point, the woman eating her panini decided to interject and commiserate with the other woman about how unhealthy vegetable oil is, and how olive oil is much better. I’m at a bit of a loss about what to do. The panini lady says, “Can you go bring out the oil, so she can see what kind you have?”
Technically, I CAN’T, because the oil comes in these gigantic cardboard boxes, and they’re really quite heavy, but I trot over and take a look at the box for her. I come back and report that the oil is Canola oil, and that the box says it has no trans fats.
Hot Dog Lady isn’t happy.
Lady: Could you put it in water instead?
Me: You want me to boil the hot dog?
Lady: Exactly.
Me: Sorry, I don’t have the pot for that (plus it would take forever, and we’re not selling grocery store hot dogs here, they’re very long, nice quality ones).
Lady *sighs*: Ok, it’s fine, I’ll just skip food then.
And she turns and has a prolonged conversation with panini lady about how she’s trying to be healthy, and how a lot of people her age just give up on health, but she doesn’t want to go that way or something like that.
Which is bull! Our menu has salads, and wraps, and vegetable covered sandwiches, and this lady wanted to order a hot dog of all things? And then complained because it wasn’t HEALTHY enough? No. Nope. Not buying it. You were just looking for ways to complain.

Status

Resident Crazy + Pregnant Lady

It was an exciting day at work today.
When I showed up, Oliver was in an especially bad mood. It turns out, Resident Crazy was in, and she was up to shenanigans. She apparently showed him that she had a five dollar bill, but then tried to refuse to pay, insisting that she would pay tomorrow. Oliver is a nice guy, and if you’ve got money problems, he’ll let you pay tomorrow. But if you’re holding money right now, and you’re refusing to pay, he’s not taking that from you. After all, he is running a business.
I guess she paid up, but he firmly told me that from now on, she HAS to pay for everything before she eats it.
Then, Resident Crazy continued her reign of terror by STARING at a pregnant lady. By staring, I mean, twisting all the way around on in her chair, so that she was practically backwards, and just gazing at her (I think she finds pregnancy fascinating). She tried to engage the pregnant lady in conversation, but the woman, aside from a couple of polite replies, wasn’t having it, and clearly just wanted to read her magazine in peace. I didn’t want this poor woman to have a bad experience because Resident Crazy couldn’t stop staring at her, so I started chatting with not-quite-all-there customer. Every time our customer tried to turn and stare at the pregnant customer, I diverted her attention. This went on for half an hour, until the pregnant woman left. I felt like a dancing, singing monkey the whole time, trying to divert the attention of a child.
And then there was hot dog lady (who I’ll mention in the next post, for brevity’s sake)
And finally, on my way out there door, I passed a real life convict, in handcuffs and an actual orange jump suit, just chillin’ with two correctional officers. Surreal.

Status

Resident Crazy + Diabetes

Resident Crazy often comes in and has a kinder surprise. Sometimes she’ll opt for a banana chocolate chip muffin instead.
Today she came in, and I guess she felt like a muffin but we were out. Instead, Oliver offered her a croissant.
“What’s in it?” She asked.
“Chocolate,” he responded.
“Oh I can’t have that! I can’t have any sugar!” She announced. “I have diabetes.”
Uhm, does she know what’s in kinder surprises and banana chocolate chip muffins?