Sadly This Doesn’t Happen Medium-Rarely

(I’m a line cook at a relatively high-end restaurant. It’s Friday night dinner service and we are in the weeds. I’m working through my tickets as quickly as I can when I notice a woman in a beautiful black dress and heels stomping into the kitchen.)

Customer: “This steak is undercooked!” *slams a plate with a perfectly-cooked, medium-rare steak onto my work area*

Me: *not looking up from my array of pots and pans* “Ma’am, please speak to a server. They will sort this out for you.”

(Just as she starts responding, the head chef starts calling out a new set of tickets. Naturally, I listen closely so I know exactly what I need to start cooking next. I haven’t the slightest what this woman has just told me.)

Me: *along with all other cooks* “Yes, chef!”

Customer: “How dare you not even bother to listen to me? I am a paying customer and I deserve to have my food cooked the way I want!”

(I barely register what she is saying, as the kitchen is falling behind on orders. Finally, the head chef notices something is wrong and approaches. He is a huge, burly, no-bulls**t man, especially in the kitchen.)

Customer: *to the head chef* “Are you the boss? This useless cook won’t—”

Head Chef: “Get the f*** out of my kitchen! We ought to put a sign above the kitchen door that reads, ‘No entitled b****es!'”

(The woman turns bright red and looks as though she is about to say something back, but decides just to scurry out of the kitchen, instead.)

Me: *handing the chef her plate* “Chef, this is her ‘undercooked’ steak.”

(The chef looked at me like I was joking and I shook my head to tell him I was not. He sighed deeply and shoved the dish into the trash, plate and all. It was a beautiful steak, gone to waste because people don’t understand what “medium-rare” means. Please, please, please never go into a kitchen if you don’t belong there. Kitchen staff work hard to serve people the best food, and you’re just a distraction. Go to the front of house staff with your complaints!)