In college, I worked for a floral shop that shared a space with a bakery. We had the space for both businesses to operate and it naturally was a good partnership. This story takes place near the end of my senior year.
I was six weeks shy of graduating with two degrees. Although I cared about the stores and wanted them to do well, my nonsense-tolerance had dropped significantly. One day, a woman came to me for balloons for her son’s 2nd birthday party. She had already picked up her cake.
Woman (grumpily tossing her balloon choices at me): Ugh, I can’t believe the bakery.
Me: Oh, is there something wrong?
Woman: Yes! LOOK at this cake!
She opens the box. It’s a nice looking cake, decorated with icing and trains. A scrolling script says: “Happy 2nd Birthday Jackson!”
Me: …
Woman: DON’T YOU SEE IT?!
Me: I think it’s a lovely ca-”
Woman: IT’S IN CURSIVE! WHY THE HELL WOULD THEY PUT IT IN CURSIVE? HE’S TWO!
Me: Oh…well, it’ll take me a couple minutes to fill these balloons. I bet you could take it back, and they could scrape off the old lettering, re-frost the blank space, and rewrite it for you.
Woman (clearly hasn’t heard a word I said): I CAN’T BELIEVE SOMEONE IS SO STUPID TO THINK THIS IS OKAY!
Me (yelling above her): CAN YOUR SON EVEN READ?!
She immediately fell silent, blushed a deep purple, and was silent while I filled her balloons. She paid without a word.