Unfiltered Story #186906

I cook at a very small cafe that makes most of the food completely from scratch, from local ingredients. Because we’re so small, we usually only have a single server working. The kitchen is open, and when it’s busy, the cooks sometimes pitch in to take or run orders. I’m taking an order for a family of three; two middle-aged adults and their adult son. They’ve had menus for awhile, and have waved off attempts to take their order twice already. Note: this family has been in before, a few times, and are known to be picky and difficult.

Me: *addressing the table, because no one has looked up from their menu* “So, did anything jump out at you? Did you have any questions about anything?”

Mother: “Yes, is your oven roasted chicken salad made with all white meat?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we roast the chickens whole and use the entire bird.”

Mother: “Oh, well, I need another minute, then.”

Me: *turns to the father* “How about you, sir? Anything strike your fancy?”

Father: *still not looking up from the menu* “Yes, is your oven roasted chicken salad all white meat?”

Me: *with a slightly brittle smile* “No, sir, we roast the entire chicken and use it all, so it’s a mix of white and dark.”

Father: “Oh. I want something different, then.” *to his son* “You order first.”

Son: *to me* “Is your oven roasted chicken salad made with all white meat?”

Me: *facepalm*