(Most delis have two slicer machines: one for meat and one for cheese. My coworker is cutting meat for an elderly woman who has placed a very large order, because she’s hosting a book club meeting at her house this afternoon. We’re chatting with her when a 40-something customer approaches the counter.)

Me: “Good morning. Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Hi. Could I get a half-pound of [brand] roast beef, please?”

Me: “Certainly. I’m afraid [coworker] here is using the meat slicer to fill this lady’s order at the moment. Could I get you any cheese in the meantime?”

Customer: “No, I don’t want any cheese.”

Me: “Okay, then. If you want to do some more shopping and come back in a few minutes I should have your order ready by then.”

Customer: “No, I don’t have any more shopping to do. This is the last thing I’m buying.”

Me: “I see. Then I’m afraid there will be a little wait while my coworker finishes cutting meat for her order.”

Customer: “What do you mean I have to wait? That slicer’s not being used, just use that one!”

(She gestures toward the cheese slicer.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s our cheese slicer. I’m afraid I can’t cut meat with that one.”

Customer: “Why the h*** not?!”

Me: “It’s a possible health hazard. They call it cross-contamination, and that’s what happens if I use equipment to prepare food for you that was just touching something you’re allergic to. Say, if you came to get cheese but were allergic to some kind of meat, the meat juice could get on the cheese you order and make you sick.”

Customer: “Well, I’m not allergic to any kind of meat or cheese. Just use the stupid slicer already!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that. Even though you might not have any allergies, some of our other customers might. On top of that, our management has a zero-tolerance policy for that. I could get fired for doing it.”

Customer: “Well, that’s an idiotic policy! I’m not other customers; I’m me! I don’t care what happens to your other customers! If they’re allergic to meat it’s just proof that God wants to get rid of them so they won’t inconvenience people like me!”

Me: “Well, I do care about our other customers, ma’am. And I’m going to ask you to please lower your voice and not tell them that God wants them to die, or I’ll have to call my manager over.”

Customer: “Go ahead and call him, smart guy! You think you know what God wants better than I do? I’ve gone to [Church] for 10 years!”

Me: “No, ma’am. I don’t think I know what God wants. Actually, I don’t believe in God.”

Customer: “You’re an atheist! No wonder you won’t just cut my f***ing meat! You were sent here by Satan himself to stop me! You’re just like Hitler or Saddam Hussein! Call your manager over here right now, so I can tell him there are demons casting spells over his meat!”

(Fed up, the elderly woman my coworker is serving slaps her own forehead and turns to the raving customer.)

Elderly Woman: “Miss, you need to hush your fat mouth up and let these folks do their job. They don’t need you hooting and carrying on. And I’ll have you know I’ve been attending [Church] for 40 years, and I know that over there they teach you to have some respect and decency! No wonder you don’t have any, because you can’t hear anything over the sound of yourself screeching! And whatever that young man believes about God is between God and himself, but God loves him no matter what.”

(The customer is silent, and then stammers angrily for a few seconds.)

Customer: “Well, he, uh… he should have just cut my d*** meat!”

(She storms out of the store.)

Elderly Woman: “Some people have no tact.”

Me: “Would you like to try a free sample of our [most expensive cheese], ma’am?”

Elderly Woman: “I’d love to, young man. God bless you.”

Me: “He already does, ma’am.”

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