Neil Versus The Guacamole

, , , , | Working | January 14, 2019

(I’ve just met up with my parents at a locally-owned Mexican restaurant for lunch. It’s a town favorite, and whereas I might go once a month or so, my parents tend to go at least once every week or two. We are sitting in a booth next to the kitchen doors. After getting chips and salsa, my mother and I agree to split an appetizer of guacamole dip.)

Mom: *dipping a chip into the bowl, making small talk* “Hmm. The guacamole is kind of chunky today.”

Me: “Yeah, it seems like half the bowl is just avocado chunks. It’s usually a bit smoother.”

(We hadn’t realized that our waitress was standing near the door, and she pops out.)

Waitress: “You guys okay? Would you like me to get you some new guacamole?”

Both Of Us: “Oh, no, its fine. It still tastes great! A few chunks never hurt anyone.”

(The waitress takes our order. When she comes back, she starts setting our food in front of us. She sets down a plate in front of my dad.)

Dad: “Oh, sorry, I asked for hard tacos.”

(The waitress looks down at my dad’s lunch special, loaded down with beef, lettuce, tomato, sour cream, pico, etc. Sure enough, they’re soft tortillas.)

Waitress: “You’re right; you did. Sorry about that. I’ll get it fixed for you.”

(She sets the plate aside and begins to set my plate down: a couple of chicken tacos, with just cheese and lettuce.)

Me: “Whoops. These are hard tacos. I asked for the soft. Sorry.”

Waitress: *as a light goes off in her head* “Oh! I see what happened! I’ll get these fixed for you guys!”

(My dad and I thank her, and she turns to the kitchen. As she pushes the door open:)

Waitress: *loudly* “NEIL! C’MON!” *disappears*

(A few minutes later, I see her start to come back out with two new dishes. Just as the door starts to shut behind her, she looks down, swivels on her heel, and marches right back into the kitchen.)


(We eventually got our correct dishes. I’m not sure what was going on, but I hope Neil’s day got better.)

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