The One Tax You Were Happy To Pay

(My cousin and his family are at a restaurant they’ve visited before. My cousin’s wife is a nurse. Their young daughter is deathly allergic to nuts and some legumes, including peanuts, so the cousin’s wife carefully vets any place they eat for allergy compliance. This restaurant has always passed with flying colors, so she’s not terribly worried.)

Server: *turning to the daughter* “And what would you like, sweetie?”

Daughter: *orders her food* “And can I have a chocolate shake, please? I’m allergic to nuts and peanuts, so can you make sure it’s safe?”

Server: “Of course!” *writes “NO NUTS” and underlines it*

Daughter: “Thank you!”

(A while later, the food comes.)

Daughter: “Mom, can you please hand me a spoon?”

Wife: “Sure!” *grabs a spoon, then swipes a bit of the chocolate shake* “Food tax!”

(She takes the bite, and instantly, her eyes go wide. Before she can even swallow, she snatches the shake away from her daughter and starts waving frantically for their server.)

Server: “What’s the matter?”

Wife: “This has peanut butter in it!”

Server: “What?! Are you sure?”

Wife: “It’s loaded! Smell it yourself!”

(The server took a whiff, then grabbed the shake and ran to get her manager. The manager apologized frantically, and then went to find the source of the mix-up. It turns out, the guy making the shake had misread, “NO NUTS,” as, “ADD NUTS,” and threw some peanut butter in. He was reprimanded, the shake was remade following allergy protocols, and the little girl got her shake, but not until after her mother had tested that one, too. She never steals bites of her children’s desserts, but, for some reason, she did that day. And we’re all very grateful.)