[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.
Top Text: “THROWS CUPCAKES AT YOU.”
Bottom Text: “YOU’RE POISONING MY CHILDREN!”]
Apologies if this is a tad long, but I feel it needs a bit of explanation.
I used to work at this chain of grocery stores in Texas in the bakery department. I was only a Bakery Clerk, which is a fancy name for a job giving people muffins and cookies from behind a counter. There was a second department for cakes, but it closed earlier than the section I worked in. That department stocks cupcakes on the floor. Right around Valentines Day, most of the cupcakes on display had red and white icing on them.
Come late one night, maybe ten minutes before closing, a woman approached the counter. She was older, maybe in her 30s. She looked a bit peeved.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She threw a box of half-eaten cupcakes across the counter at me. They hit me and I barely caught them.
“Do you really expect me to feed my children these?” She began, irate.
I had no idea how to respond. I just said, “Not if you don’t want to.”
“Don’t you see that you are poisoning my children? I demand they all be taken off the shelves and not be sold ever again!” She was getting louder at this point.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have the authority to do that. I don’t make the cupcakes.”
“It doesn’t matter. You are just as much to blame… You are standing here while my children DIE. I DEMAND you stop selling these cupcakes.”
My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “I’m sorry… but why?”
“Because the icing has red dye, idiot.” It was rather uncalled for, I think, but I was honestly too flabbergasted to actually say anything else. I just looked at her. She demanded to see my manager.
My manager always left like 3 hours before closing, so I called in my coworker, an older lady who was working to have something to do after retirement. I explained the situation in the back of the bakery and told her I was sorry. She handled it rather professionally, finally calming her down by half-agreeing with her red dye rants but telling her she couldn’t do anything about it. She then informed her that if it was such a problem, the items could be returned with a receipt.
“Oh, I didn’t buy them yet. I was snacking on them in the store.”
If a customer threw something at me and it hit me, I’d make damn sure they were booted out of the store.