Our Beef With The Beef Isn’t With You

| Working | March 13, 2015

(My father and I are on a skiing trip and trying out a new restaurant. I order the venison stew, and my father orders the sirloin steak, asking to have it done medium rare. The food is pretty good, but there’s one glaring problem. The stew has beef in it – rib meat – not venison, and what my father has gotten is clearly not sirloin, but some other cut which isn’t quite as good. Since we’re really hungry and tired from skiing all day, we decide not to make a fuss. The waitress approaches us at the end of the meal.)

Waitress: “Did everything taste good?”

Father: “Yes, it’s good. It’s not what we ordered, but it’s good.”

Waitress: “…What?”

Me: “Well, I can tell this isn’t venison in the stew, and whatever is on my father’s plate isn’t sirloin steak. And he asked for medium rare, but this is rare bordering on raw.”

Father: “We just thought you could pass it on that people CAN tell the difference.”

Waitress: *looking like she’s about to panic* “I’m so sorry. I—”

Me: “Please. We know this isn’t your fault. You’ve been nothing but kind and pleasant to us all evening. You don’t cook the food here. We just wanted whoever it is who does to know that using cheaper meat than what’s on the menu will only lose you customers, okay?”

Waitress: *looking close to tears* “I’m really very sorry. I didn’t know. They just hand me the food.”

Father: “It’s okay, really. Here’s a tip. You really deserve it. I hope you get that cook sorted out.”

(She all but bolted from there, looking relieved, mortified, and like someone was going to feel the flat of her hand very soon. Hopefully, things worked out in the end – my father and I certainly didn’t return there.)

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