A woman ordered a flavor of cake that wasn't even listed on the "custom cake order" form, which is fine by husband/wife. It is a birthday cake. The cake probably costs her around $70 based on the size and level of customization (I wasn't there for the order). She comes in one day to look at it, and when I show it to her she whines that it's not how she wanted it to look. That is kinda offensive to the husband/baker, since it was very gorgeous and made how that kind of cake is traditionally made. I think he ended up making her a whole new cake since slices of the cake ended up in the "cold pastry" case for the first time ever.
The owners come in to do baking and business matters, but leave shortly after I come in for afternoon shift. Saturdays are particularly crazy for the bakery, so of course that's when Cake Bitch comes in to get her cake. She seems pleased at how it looks, and I box it up for her. She asks if it is ok if they "chow down here". I see only her and another adult, so I say fine.
She opens the door and yells "COME ON IN!!" In comes five children under the age of ten, two more adults, and an infant. We have a grand total of six tables in the very small store, three of which they push together to make a long table. She then demands I pour them nine "courtesy" cups of water (we only sell bottled water, not free cups), get them nine forks, nine plates, etc. I am so baffled by this that I comply.
Cake Bitch then asks if I can get her a large, sharp knife to cut the cake with. And then she asks if we have a lighter. I say no. She says "do YOU have one? like in your purse?" I start thinking, maybe if I kiss up to her, I'll get a nice tip since they look pretty wealthy. So I let her borrow my lighter and fetch her a knife to cut cake with. I wasn't going to cut the cake since that is not my job and also I didn't want her to go off for "not cutting right" blah blah.
They end up sitting in there for half an hour having their impromptu party. Several people come in the bakery, see the party of sugared children, and immediately leave. At one point, the infant shit itself as infants do, and they debate whether or not to use another table where people fucking eat to change it. Luckily they did not.
Eventually, she hands me what is left of the cake - about half - and says "You can hold onto that for me until we come back. We're going to do some shopping." Thank you for allowing me to hold your cake, O Cake Bitch. She leaves without so much as glancing at the tip jar. Twenty minutes later, she pokes her head in the door to say "We're going to pass on the cake actually, so go ahead and chow down." Thank you for providing me with your leftovers that small children have spat upon, Cake Bitch. Half of a very expensive cake and she couldn't be assed to pick up the leftovers.