Carrot Cake and Confrontation

I keep waiting for that one difficult customer to come into the shop... the one who puts up an unnecessary stink, acts the asshole and then wants to talk to the owner. And I can have the satisfaction of saying....
"I am the owner..."

I'm a good natured person. Probably way more good natured than I should be at times. I tolerate things most would refuse to tolerate. I insist on objectivity in every encounter and empathy where some choose violence. Owning a business, though... my fuse gets shorter. I find myself more curt, more direct, less tolerant. Maybe because I'm exposed to sooo much more bullshit than I ever have been before. Like the lady who came in last week with her toddler, took him into the bathroom, let him puke all over the place and then left. Or the customer who came in and gave me a bucket of shit over an agreement we never made. Or the landlady who doesn't always communicate effectively. All of a sudden, it's dawning on me that tolerance, empathy and objectivity are not always the only ways to approach situations. Traces of these things, yes, but sidled up with a shot that comes straight from the hip.... it seems a good recipe. Smile while I shoot. Even better.

Yesterday we had a guy in here that gave one of my girls a hard time over a piece of cake. Which slice, the way she cut it, the way she wrapped it. He was demeaning and condescending and she told me how tempted she was to go out into the big room, deliver the cake and ask the wife if she let him talk to her that way. She didn't. Probably because it wasn't her place and we had just had that conversation that included the word "unacceptable". It's too bad, really, because I would have totally supported her biting back.

I asked her who he was, was he local? She said he was a bigger guy, "New York type", thick framed black glasses, the kind that acts more important than he is.

So today, some guy comes in with his wife or girlfriend, orders for both of them. They seem a happy couple but there he is... big guy, thick framed black glasses. He was missing an element of pretentiousness but I waited. While he sat in the big room eating a croissant and drinking an Italian soda, Sarah came in and confirmed that that was the guy.

He came in, looked at the cake, asked how much it was, considered it.
I waited.
He opted out of the cake. Maybe he sensed all three of us...Sarah, myself and Holly.... all waiting to pounce.
I still waited.

But, nope.
No such luck today.
I'll have to wait for the next difficult customer.