“I’ve said it before, and I say it again. Bagels can be an enormous power for good or for evil. It is up to us to decide how we will use them.” – Daniel Pinkwater

“I’d like an asiago bagel with onion and chive shmear, and a Farmhouse sandwich. Also, could you have your sandwich makers wipe down the counter and change their gloves? I have a severe peanut allergy.”

The woman before me was pretty and thin. She wore designer jeans, Uggs, a white long-sleeved shirt, and a puffy white vest. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a hot pink knitted snow cap with a pom-pom on the top.

“Of course!” I said back.

The regional manager (my boss’ boss), Brian, and my coworker, Kevin, stood behind me with their backs to me making orders. This woman was the only one in the store, but on such a snowy day, a lot of people had ordered from DoorDash.

“Hey,” I whispered to Brian, “we have a peanut allergy. Could you all change gloves and wash down the sandwich board?”

“You got it, Blondie.” Ever since I had returned from my trip to see my parents with my highlights touched up, Brian had started calling me “Blondie.”

No sooner had I made the allergy request, Kevin took the board to the back to wash it down.

Brian looked over my shoulder to see who had made the request. “Trisha! How’s it going? How’s Todd? Is he better yet?”

“Yes! He finally tested negative, thank God. Man, that Covid is a nightmare!”

“Oh, that’s so great. I’m glad to hear it. Tell him hi, and he needs to come back to get his own bagel!”

Trisha laughed. “Oh, I’ll tell him! Thanks, Brian!”

Kevin returned with the board, and Brian turned back to making sandwiches. As I sent the order to the sandwich board computer and down to Susan who was working the cashier at the other end of the counter, I watched as Brian and Kevin quickly made her order. By the time Trisha had paid Susan, her order was already sitting in a neatly folded bag next to the register.

As Trisha left the store, I watched as the snow swirled through the parking lot. She ducked into her car and drove away.

I stood watching the almost-empty snowy parking lot wondering when the next customer would come.

A sage green Jaguar pulled into the parking spot in front of the store, and an elderly couple got out of the car. The man walked with a cane, but still offered his arm to his wife as she got out of the driver’s side.

As they entered the store, the man stood and looked at the menu on the wall in front of my counter. The woman came up and immediately ordered a poppy seed bagel with regular cream cheese and a large coffee. She made her order with confidence, and then moved down the line to talk to Susan and wait for her husband.

After several minutes, the man came up to the counter.

“Good afternoon, sir! What can I get you?” I asked.

The man looked at me assuredly and said, “Yes, I’ll have a shmear.”

I cocked my head. “A shmear?”

He frowned. “Yes. I’ll have a shmear.”

“Okay, what bagel would you like?”

“No no, I just want a shmear,” he insisted.

All of sudden, I was aware that Brian and Kevin had stopped making orders and Susan had stopped sweeping. Other than Taylor Swift on the sound system, no one made a sound.

I could feel Brian assessing to see if he needed to help me or if I could handle the customer on my own.

“Well, would you like a tub of shmear? We have those down in the case next to the register. Or maybe just an individual side cup?”

He looked flustered. “No. I want a SHMEAR.”

I sighed. “Well, sir, shmear is just a fancy name for cream cheese. It needs a vehicle. Unless you’d like me to find a way to shoot it directly into your mouth, I’d suggest you pick a bagel to put it on.” I smiled, but he was unamused at my sarcasm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kevin’s shoulders shake. He lifted his hand to his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud.

“Fine,” he said indignantly, “I’ll have a pumpkin bagel. With shmear.”

I braced myself. It was February. “Sir, I hate to tell you this, but pumpkin bagels are seasonal and we actually haven’t sold those since 2016.”

He sighed. “Fine. Plain. I’ll have a plain bagel.”

I stopped myself from asking, “With shmear?” Clearly, he had no sense of humor about this.

I took a deep breath as he moved down the line to pay.

The store resumed its usual noise as Brian and Kevin swiftly made the couple’s order. As the couple left the store, the man looked back and glared at me. I smiled and waved. His wife looked back at me and mouthed, “I’m so sorry!”

The second the door closed, my coworkers erupted with laughter, and they all applauded.

“Nice, going, Blondie!”

“Dang, Lauren, you really held your own!”

“Yeah, and you did an excellent job at keeping your laugh down to a dull roar, Kevin,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

As my coworkers high-fived me, I wondered what would have happened if he had gotten someone mean or impatient. He was clearly in a mood over something that had nothing to do with me. He wasn’t the first difficult customer I dealt with, and I knew he wouldn’t be the last. But what I did learn was how important it is to treat people kindly even if it isn’t returned. I knew my patience might have made him be a little nicer with someone else or maybe patient with the next order-taker he dealt with when he came back in. But regardless, I felt good about treating someone decently.

I thought about the moment when his wife turned and apologized to me. Somehow that small gesture of compassion made the conversation with her husband more bearable. I only hoped I did the same for him.