Customer Support

A true event that I made into a short story

     I stood behind the counter of the tiny pizza and sub shop I worked at to get me through college.  I didn’t want to be there because I had just gotten back from Thanksgiving break, and I hadn’t fully unpacked from my weekend at home.  Unfortunately, I knew I wouldn’t get to leave early if it was slow because Kaitlin had been working all day, and she would be the first to leave if the manager sent people home.  It was a very quiet Sunday evening and we hadn’t had a lot of business since I got there.  Our customers were mostly regulars; the locals in town who always came and got their favorite meals to bring home or eat here.  If you didn’t recognize someone it was probably because they were just passing through, or bringing a child to the college that I went to just down the street.  The area wasn’t exactly open to tourism, so any outsiders probably wouldn’t have expected to be at a pizza place in this small town.

     It is because of this reputation for regulars that when this one particular woman walked in on that Sunday night, I assumed she was unfamiliar to the town because she was looking over the menu, taking in every item.  I never judge people on appearance or how they act, so I put on a smile like I would with anyone else and asked her how her evening was.  She looked at me and asked “What would the best thing be to order so I can eat while driving?”  Now I could’ve made a remark about eating and driving, but who was I to talk?  I’ve done it plenty of times, and it’s not such a new idea.

     “Well,” I said, looking over the large menu printed on the wall next to the counter.  “I would go with one of the cold subs, but I would avoid getting lettuce on it because it’s shredded and might fall out…”  I kept talking, unsure really of what I was saying after awhile.  I wasn’t a fan of cold subs, so how would I really know?  All I knew is that the hot subs had marinara sauce that would drip and most likely make a mess that would not be fun to clean up in a car.  As I was speaking, I wondered why I was actually giving an honest opinion and trying to make so much sense out of a simple question.

     “What about a tuna pocket?” she suggested.   I agreed that it could probably work as a clean meal.  I suggested that she eat it with a sub roll instead, knowing that our pita pockets were not always stable.  “Are they whole wheat?  I can only have whole wheat, part of my diet.  I’m trying to cut down on stuff and do lighter portions…”

     “Ah okay,” I interrupted, “We only have Italian style bread, but our pitas are whole wheat.  So you wanted a tuna pocket, you said?”

     “Yes,” she thought a bit more.  “Could I have the veggies on the side?  In a separate container?  Like, the lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles?”

     “Of course.”  I asked if she wanted a drink, and she asked for some milk.  After I rang her up and she paid, I put the order back to the sub bench.

     When I brought the milk up to the counter for her, she said “I think I’m going to go change so I don’t get anything on this,” she said, indicating her jacket.  “It’s made of suede.”

     “Oh yeah, I don’t think that would come out easily.”

     “Right, and I’m driving all the way to Connecticut tonight, and I just wanted something to eat on the way.”  Now, being in New Hampshire, I knew that Connecticut would be a long drive for one night.  I had figured she was driving alone because only she came in and ordered for one person.  Usually when people talk to me at the counter, I assume that they’re lonely and haven’t had anyone to talk to in awhile.  Or perhaps they just like to talk.  I know that I’m a talker, but I try to keep it to a minimum with people I don’t know, especially if they’re serving me food or I’m serving them such as the case was here.

     As soon as she walked away to change, I went back to watch Kerry at the sub bench methodically put together the pocket because I had nothing else to do.  She added the mayonnaise, then the tuna salad, and when she looked at the slip, she placed the lettuce, tomato and pickles in a small Styrofoam box.  I wondered if Kerry was judging this odd request at all, and the inquisitive look on her face made me think she was a little miffed about it.  But, she knows that I write my slips out correctly unlike the other two girls I was working with that night.  Because of this, Kerry tended to trust my judgment.  She put it all in a nice brown bag, writing it with the number that was at the top of the slip; our indicator of who it belongs too, even though I knew exactly which lone person in the building had a tuna pocket with toppings on the side.  I grabbed the bag and carried it to the front counter, waiting for the woman to come around the corner from the bathroom.

     “Whatcha up to?”  I turned to see Beth walking up to the counter and lean next to me.  Beth was a nice girl, but she was the perfect example of a dumb blonde.  I had many frustrations with her, but she was still fairly new and was not the fastest of learners.  I told her I was waiting for a woman to come back from changing and pick up her food.  “Oh.” She responded quietly, and then proceeded to wait with me.  I had hoped that maybe she would’ve gotten bored and start wiping off counters or tables, but she stayed with me; I’ll never know why.  The woman came back around the corner from where the bathrooms were, now in a red sweater that looked like it wasn’t too expensive.

     I smiled and held out her bag for her.  As this woman took the bag from me, she said, “Thank you, and please say a prayer for me.”  I am Catholic, but not too religious, and if someone asks for a prayer, I won’t judge.  I also don’t usually pray when I say I will.

     “Of course,” I responded.  “Driving and eating is dangerous.  So I’d wait until you hit a straightaway before starting to eat this.”

     “Oh no, not just that.”  The woman’s tone suddenly turned grave and dark.  “For something else too.”  Had it not been completely dead that night, I would have tried to rush her out of the place so we could help the other customers.  Or, I might have started finding busy work that could be performed behind the counter so maybe she could get the hint that I wasn’t interested.  But as it was, no one else was there besides her and us employees.  As soon as she said it in that way, I figured she really needed someone to talk to.  I was only slightly aware of Beth still standing next to me, wondering if she had taken an interest to this woman as I had.  Before I could ask the woman what was wrong, she started explaining how she had a long drive ahead of her.  “And, I am stuck with a verbally abusive…” She had separated the last two words long enough for me to think immediately “husband” to follow that phrase, but then she said “daughter.”
I prevented myself from smiling.  I was just thinking that this was a case of teenage rebellion that this woman, obviously of some branch of Christianity, just hadn’t come to grasp.  I don’t judge people, especially ones I’ve just met, but at just hearing this one statement I figured that it was a misunderstanding on the mother’s part.  I opened my mouth to suggest that as an option; however, the woman kept going.

     “When we’re around other people, she’s just fine.  For instance, we stayed at a hotel and she was perfectly fine, but I’m just worried…”

     “You’re worried about being alone in a car with her,” I finished.

     “Exactly.”

     “Well here’s hoping she falls asleep soon!”  I was hoping this little joke would give her a good boost, despite its dark nature.  Maybe it would get her to leave, I didn’t want to hear her preach.  She sighed deeply; no indication of leaving.

     “I really hope she does, and I’m pretty sure she will.  But the thing is, she’s 14, and… well let’s just say that there’s a reason that she’s at boarding school.  And I mean, I’m a single mother, and she’s so ungrateful. SO ungrateful!”  At this point, I could only nod, and I saw Beth out of the corner of my eye doing the same.  “She has NO idea what life is like!  No one does.  I did missionary work in Africa, so I know what it’s like to have no Christian influence.  And, well I was hoping that being in a Christian boarding school would help her.”  Again, I started silently judging, and feeling guilty for doing so.  I have very strong feelings about spreading religion, and I don’t think it is right to do so.  “I know though that she still will come across different sources of media, so I can only hope to expose her to Godly things,” the woman continued.

     “Yeah I know what that’s like.”  As soon as I heard Beth spoke, I was praying that she would just stop talking.  I knew that she didn’t know what this woman was talking about, and if I really knew Beth at all, she was going to relate to the daughter.  Without actually stopping her from going on, I just hoped that common sense might kick in; however from experience I knew that it was very unlikely to happen.  “I mean, I’m Christian, but I’m not…” she held up her hands to gesture a large amount.  “But no offense.  However my mom really is.  And if she forced me to go to a Christian boarding school, I might be bitter too.”

     “Well yes, but I can see where you’re coming from too,” I jumped in hoping that Beth just hadn’t broken this woman’s heart.  “You just want what’s best for your daughter, and she doesn’t understand that.”  As I said this, I was shocked at my desire to comfort this woman.

     “I know, but she’ll say things like ‘you’re a stupid woman’, and she’ll call me a…” she hushed her voice, “A b***h.”  She raised her voice again and continued speaking.  “It just breaks my heart, and I really need prayers, especially because of what day it is today.”

     “Sunday.  I understand.”  Suddenly, I heard a beep signaling the front door being opened.  A tall girl with long hair and glasses walked in, but did not approach the counter.  She seemed to be interested in the bulletin board around the corner next to the bathrooms.  I went back to paying attention to this woman.

     “Right.  The day of the Lord.  I can only pray that He will give me the strength to deal with her, and hopefully have her understand what I’ve had to go through as well, and having others pray for me would be greatly appreciated.”  I saw the girl from before approaching the counter, but staring precariously at the woman.  Suddenly, it dawned on me; this was her daughter.

     “Okay then, I will be praying for you.  Please have safe travels,” I rushed my speech, hoping to save this woman having to explain to her daughter what we were just talking about.

     “Oh thank you, I will need as much as I can get.”  She turned around, and saw the girl behind her.  “Oh, when did you come in?  Are you ready to go?  How long have you been standing there?”  The two of them started walking back to the door, and I was trying to read the daughter’s face.  She had a fake smile on; the type that an elementary school bully might wear while talking to the teacher before turning around and punching the weaker student.  The mother, on the other hand, had a different fake smile.  Hers seemed to be of absolute fear.  Then, I heard “No!  No we weren’t talking about you.”  The door opened and closed, and the place was empty again except for us behind the counter.

     “Wow.”  “She was crazy.  No wonder she’s single,” Beth said.  I picked up the scoop we had in a bucket full of ice, and I started breaking apart the large clumps floating at the top.

     “Yeah, no wonder.”

Author's Note

This was edited a few times for class, and a lot of what I took out was some inner thoughts I had especially near the end. It was a suggestion, I tried it, but I'd like to know what you think.