Unfiltered Story #241044

Our favorite Chinese restaurant, where the food is slow but wonderful, servers speak their native language so you need to point at the menu, always has at least one table with an Asian group.

We went for dinner on a busy evening in their first year open. DH orders chicken satay. Waitress brings what is obviously fish.

“This isn’t mine.”

“Yes, yours.”

“I would never order fish.”

“Yes, your fish, look.” She shows him her order book. It’s in Chinese.

DH looks, and says, “I’m sorry, I can’t read any of those letters.”

She huffs off, eventually bringing the right dish.

Over the years, she’s become our favorite grumpy waitress. We always tip properly, and now she nearly smiles when we come in, and she knows our usuals.