Take a breath and chill

Tomorrow is August first. That means the Great Thanksgiving Gearing Up begins at our restaurant. We typically sell about 10,000 pies in the span of 2 days! So now we begin. The holiday pie boxes will be ordered, along with the extra million cans of pumpkin. The typical foothills of flour and sugar bags will soon rival Everest. Pie order cards will be sent to the printers. Employee training classes will be scheduled. It's an insane, fun time of year. Everyone works so hard, and surprisingly, the cooperation level increases. And so do the Crazy Customer stories. Here's one of my favorites.

It was Thanksgiving morning, and the line for pies went around the building. In that line was this fellow: 50-something white guy, about 5'2", nasty little grey beard, camo pants, black lace-up boots, black eagle t-shirt, camo billed cap covered with various sharpshooter pins. Can you see him? Don't you just know this guy woke up that morning with a really BAD attitude, and was looking for someone to bully. He had come in the evening before (with no pie reservation) and we were out of pumpkin pie. That happens maybe twice during the holiday season, and when it does there usually will be a rack of 160 of them, fresh out of the oven, cooling in the freezer...so we don't hand a customer a box of molten pie. You're welcome.

Well, GI Joe was still mad (because you know, we really DID have a bunch of pumpkin pies, but we were HIDING them, just to tick him off. Only him. No one else.) He decided he wanted someone (read: me) to feel the heat of his ire. So he got in my face...actually my neck...and snarls, "What would you do if I decided to storm this place in front of all these customers?"

"Storm this place"? Seriously? STORM a restaurant? with 50 employees running around and 100 customers standing in line? Over an eight-dollar pie?

So I smiled my sweetest smile, and in my very best the-customer-is-always-right voice I said, "Well, sir, I would call the police and have your butt dragged off to jail. In front of all these customers. Sir."

He got all puffed up and blustery, and demanded my name because he was going to call corporate the next day and report my ill-mannered behavior. Again I smiled, "Let me give you my business card so that when you call to tell on me, you get my name right. You will not come into MY restaurant, and threaten the safety of MY employees and MY customers. Now here's your pie. You will leave this building, and do not ever come back to this restaurant. Oh, and have a lovely Thanksgiving. Sir."

We haven't seen him since. He's probably down the street terrorizing Coco's.