Pretzel Girl

"Stupid"

         7 year old Lucas slams his fist onto the counter between us, and I roll my eyes. "This is no way to treat a customer!" He says, his eyebrows furrowing. 

          People cast their glances toward us and I sigh, tiredly. "Lucas, this is the 6th time I've told you. You need 50 more cents to get the stupid pretzel!"

             He gasps in shock. "You just said stupid!" He yells out in fake disbelief. This isn't the first time he's done this, but it is for sure the last time. 

             I look around the room, my face heating up quickly. I can't believe this. "I just wanted a pretzel," He says in choked sobs, "but the rude lady called me stupid!" The nerve of this kid!

             Now everyone is staring at me. I can't lose my job over this, I really can't. I huff, digging in my pocket for two quarters and smack them onto the counter. 

             I give an angry smile, and hand him a pretzel off of the warm, steaming rack. "Have a nice day." He takes the pretzel from my hand, and takes a bite. "You too." He replies, smirking, then walking away.

             You've probably guessed by now that this happends quite often. Lucas is one of the many customers that visit on the weekends, and shop.

                And of course, when you're shopping at the mall, you always have to buy a pretzel. It's mandatory shopping fuel. You can't just walk by the salty smell of the warm, baked bread and the girl in the dorky bright red hat and uniform who sells them. That was me. I was the pretzel girl.