Not A Speck Of Irony

(I am working as a pastry line cook at a relatively high-end restaurant. I get a lot of strange tickets for the lunch crowd, usually from entitled, rich people. One day, I receive a ticket for our apple tart, with no cinnamon. As the tart comes with cinnamon ice cream, I assume there is supposed to be a sub note. I call the server.)

Me: “Hey, [Server], I can replace the cinnamon ice cream, but I need to know what they want instead.”

Server: “Sure thing. Give me a sec.”

(The server promptly rings in another ticket for cinnamon ice cream sub chocolate ice cream. I send the subbed dessert out. Thirty seconds later, it comes back into the kitchen.)

Me: “Hey, what happened? I just sent that out!”

Server: “Apparently, she meant no cinnamon at all. She wants you to remove the specks of cinnamon.”

Me: “And you came back here honestly expecting me to break out tweezers to comply?”

Server: “Well…”

Me: “Go find a manager. I’m not being paid enough to deal with this level of petty.”

Server: “Wait, so you’re not going to fix this? What am I supposed to tell her?”

Me: “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”