(A large family comes in to the fast food place. I’m working on putting the veggies on the sandwich of the youngest son who’s about 8 or 9.)

Kid: “Lettuce, tomato, olives…” *mumbles* “…uhm, mustard.”

Me: “Sorry, was that honey mustard?”

Kid: *shouts* “MUSTARD!”

Me: “Regular mustard then?”

Kid: “MUUUUUUUSTAAAAAAAAAAARD!”

Me: “Anything else?”

Kid: “Olive!”

Me: “I already have the olives on here.”

Kid: “OLIVE!”

Me: *looks at the dad* “I already have his olives in here.”

Kid: *starts stomping his feet and whining* “OLIVE!”

Dad: “She has the olives on there what more do you want!”

Kid: “SHE’S STUPID! NO! OLIVE!”

Dad: “Apparently he didn’t want olive or something.” *turns to kid* “You’re being naughty, cut it out!”

Kid: *screams* “Noooo!”

(I start taking the olives off, and finally the mom comes over.)

Mom: “What is going on!?”

Dad: “He didn’t want olives, but he kept saying olive.”

Kid: “No! I want olive! Olive oil!”

Mom: *points to dad* “You! You’re not allowed to do this anymore next time I do this. He wanted olives and olive oil.”

Me: “…so, he wants olives and olive oil?”

Dad: *sheepishly* “Yes.”

Kid: “FINALLY!”