Full disclaimer: This woman actually said all of these things. I took some creative license on our words because I don't remember them as clearly, but everything here attributed to this customer is true of her, so help me God.
...
I walk through my realm of the dining room, dropping off three drinks here, handing a check to a table there, and mentally noting needs that another two tables have. I hear a raised voice and realize my co-worker is talking to a lady at the register and this lady is not happy. I walk over to see if I can be of assistance.
"I called four times and nobody answered!" the woman is saying. "I called for fourty-five minutes!"
"Oh, no!" Erin and I respond together. "I'm sorry, when was this?" Erin continues. "The phone hasn't rung recently."
"Don't give me that. I called four times and you didn't pick up. When was the last time you had a physical to check your hearing? I drove into your PARKINGLOT and called and watched you all running around in here through the window and not ONE of you picked up the phone."
"Wait, just now?" Erin asks. "The phone didn't ring..." Before she can continue the manager, Abii walks up and apologizes to the woman.
"Maybe our phoneline is down," she said. "I'm so sorry--I'll check it and see."
"There's nothing wrong with your phoneline. While I was sitting in the lot somebody else pulled up to the window and got an order."
Now, I was actually the one that had handled that to-go, so I stepped in again.
"Oh!" I said. "That lady didn't call ahead--she just pulled up and asked for an apple pie."
The woman does not appear to believe me.
"I wonder if there was an accident or something on McKnight and it knocked our phone out," Abii says. "That happened last night--somebody ran into a pole down the road and we lost the phone for a while."
"There is no accident," the woman says. She has long, badly-dyed blonde hair, and wears a crochet top I would normally compliment her on and a face that clearly says she is sure we're making up excuses.
"I was down McKnight. There are no accidents," she repeats, as if she is talking to a child caught in the middle of stealing a piece of cake who claims it is for his sister.
We highly doubt she has been all the way up and down the entirety of McKnight road, but we do not say this.
"Why are you running around doing everything anyways?" the woman asks of Erin. "You've got tables out here, are supposed to take to-gos, and you're cashing people out?"
"Oh, we're just a little short-staffed today," Erin says. "So we're all helping out take care of everything."
"What. I can't believe this. That is terrible business practice! You do not EVER tell a customer that you are shortstaffed. EVER."
"What?" says Erin. "Our manager tells us to say that."
"No. You do not ever say that. I cannot believe you just told me that. This is ridiculous. What kind of a place is this?"
I'm tired of Erin dealing with the brunt of this, so I step in again. "Actually," I said. "It's really good that corporate lets us tell our customers that--because then the ones out in the dining room know that we're not just in the back not doing anything--we have other jobs, too, and that's why we don't get to them immediately sometimes. It helps us out."
"No. That doesn't matter. You do not EVER tell a customer you are shortstaffed. I can't believe this."
"Well," I said, shrugging philosophically as I turn away, and pretending I'm at the mercy of my betters. "That's just what corporate tells us to do."
"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" the woman demands. I blink and just stare at her for an instant, confused. I had not rolled my eyes at her, but at this point, I have to attend to needs my tables have, and I leave the conversation with her and do not answer.
A moment later I meet Abii in the kitchen. Abii is calling our phone, which rings. I pick it up.
"Hello," I say.
"Hello," says Abii. "Well, it's definitely working." She hangs up.
"I bet she just has the wrong number," I say.
"Well, I'm not going to fix that," Abii says, grinning.
Erin curses, interrupting us. All the woman had wanted was a quart of potato soup. Erin has just arrived in the back, frantic to fill the order and get rid of this person when she realizes it is Monday, and on Mondays we do not have potato soup. This woman clearly had not looked at a menu prior to ordering, and now Erin, who hadn't remembered in the heat of a very desperate moment that we do not actually have potato soup on Mondays, must now return and tell this woman she can't have potato soup.
I was not there for that revelation, but I was there for the aftermath. Erin comes back into the kitchen, looking for Abii.
"She wants our names, store number, and corporate's number," she says wearily.
"Are you effing kidding me?" Abii responds. "Fine. She can have it. Pft. Whatever."
She gets out a piece of paper, and very neatly writes her full name, Erin's full name, and the demanded numbers. She hands me the paper and tells me to deliver it. At this stage we are all filled with the humour that only incredulity can bring, and I walk out, laughing a little. I smilingly hand the paper to the woman. "Here you go!" I say.
The woman inspects the paper. "There are only two names on here," she says. "Erin... that was the girl who was taking my order... who are you?"
"I'm Abigail," I said, knowing Abii had written her full name (also Abigail) on the paper.
"Then who was the manager?" the woman asks.
"Oh, that's Abigail," I said.
The woman now has the evidence she needs to prove that we are trying to pull a fast one on her; that it is in fact our goal; that we are intent on ruining her life and getting away with atrocities. She can't believe any three people could be like this.
"I'm also Abigail," I say. "We're both Abigail. But I'm Abigail Kimball." I repeat my name a second time, so she can be sure of it. "Have a nice day!" I say, as I turn away to run some food to one of my tables.
Erin comes out to deal with the last of this woman, who is dialing corporate as she walks out of the restaurant.
"I'll have your jobs," she says. "All three of you. Come Monday, you will no longer have jobs."
She leaves.
Abii calls the general manager and leaves a message. She then calls the second manager, Suspenders (his name is Nick, but he always wears suspenders, and thusly earned his moniker), and tells him the story and that this woman is promising we've lost our jobs. Nick just laughs and laughs.
"What: you, Abigail, and Erin? Sure. Whatever."
The head manager calls us back after getting Abii's message. He hears the story and tells Abii not to worry. We are definitely not getting fired.
"Just go back to whatever you're doing." he soothes. "Don't even worry about it. You're all fine. She can't get you fired."
A woman at a table near the register tells Erin she only realized late what was happening, and almost got up to go talk to the woman.
A woman at my table near the door makes a point to tell me thank-you very much, and that I was very pleasant to her and her friend.
We breathe a collective sigh of relief, and continue our jobs.
...
I'm having a hard time imagining this woman in the real world, though. What hobbies, relationships, jobs does she have? It was as if she was just spawned in the parking-lot and existed only for those moments of interaction with us, then as soon as she left she disappeared into the ether. It was very odd.
All for a quart of potato soup.
