This was related to me when I came in last night:

Late in the afternoon, as the evening crew was beginning to straggle in, the lady who owns the tanning salon came over, ordered a pizza, and asked that it be brought over to her when it was ready. So, when it came out of the oven, A. boxed it, cut it, and took it over.

“It’s so nice of you to hire that retarded boy,” the salon owner said.

“Hmmm?” A. asked.

“The one who took my order. So few people would have the patience to deal with him.”

“You mean … Ogre?” A. inquired.

“Yes! That’s the one!”

It’s funny in a “I am a horrible person to laugh at this” kind of way.