Shaker With Rage

My mother, my teenage daughter, and I are eating at a local diner, which is still relatively new and very popular. We’ve eaten here many times before because of the good food, reasonable prices, and friendly staff. My mother has a spaghetti dish, and the server brings us a small shaker of parmesan cheese. As we’re finishing up our meal, the server notices we are done and, while clearing our dishes, takes the shaker back with her. As we approach the register to pay the bill, the cashier “politely” informs me that she saw me place the cheese shaker in my purse, and if I return it, no questions will be asked and no charges filed.

I’m speechless. The shaker was nothing special to begin with — it was the kind you’d get from a dollar store — and Lord knows I don’t need parmesan cheese that badly. As I’m showing my shaker-less purse to the cashier, my mother, who has always been ultra-protective of her kids, goes ballistic. It’s a very small restaurant — you could easily toss a dinner roll from one end to the next — so everyone turns to watch the show as Mom basically tears into the cashier: “How dare you accuse my daughter of stealing? She was waitressing before you were even born! She would never do such a thing! Is your precious shaker worth that much?!” and so forth.

The server finally surfaces and confirms she took the shaker with her when she cleared the table. The cashier apologizes profusely and offers to comp our meals, but that isn’t good enough for Mom. My daughter and I have to almost drag her out of there before she gets physical. It takes her several hours to calm down. She never asked for gift cards or other compensation; she just wanted the cashier’s head on a platter. Needless to say, we never set foot in that place again, which is a shame, because it really was a good dinner. The place has since closed.