When An Omelet Is Not An Omelet, Part 2

, , | Right | February 25, 2021

A group is asking about breakfast options on the lunch menu. I list a few options that are available, and the mom questions me about ingredients in most of them. Thinking they may have dietary restrictions, I give as much detail as possible. 

Mom: “Does the omelet have eggs in it?”

I just repeated her question back to her and waited for it to click.

When An Omelette Is Not An Omelette

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When The Hangry Strikes

, , , | Right | February 24, 2021

I work at a local family-run food chain. It’s a slow shift due to a snowstorm that is hitting the area. My manager walks over to me while holding a phone on mute.

Manager: “Hey, could you take this order? They would like to place a delivery.”

Me: “Of course!” *Takes the phone* “Hi there! Can I get your phone number for the delivery?”

This customer seems calm and normal while I am getting his information for the delivery.

Me: “All righty, what can I get started for you tonight?”

Customer: *Silence*

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: *Suddenly snappy* “What?!”

Me: *Slightly taken aback* “How can I help you tonight?”

Customer: *Begins to yell* “How many d*** people am I gonna have to talk to before I can get my f****** food?!”

Me: “Sir, this is the same person you were speaking to as before.”

Customer: “What do you want from me?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Would you like to continue placing your order?”

He goes back to his original relatively normal demeanor.

Customer: “Oh, yeah! Can I get [order]?”

The rest of the transaction goes relatively smoothly until the very end after getting his payment information.

Me: “You’re all set! Give us about forty-five minutes and that should be out to you!”

Customer: *Yelling again* “That’s what they say every time!”

Me: “I am very sorry, sir, but I am not in charge of delivery times. Please contact us if you have an issue with your delivery.”

He hung up. I went to tell my manager what happened and she apologized profusely, explaining that he had originally called complaining about his delivery not arriving when it turned out he hadn’t even placed an order with us yet!

She told me he was normal when she was talking to him and that if she had known he would have acted so rudely she would’ve handled the call instead. What a weird dude.

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Might As Well Have Cooked Yourself

, , , , | Working | February 24, 2021

It’s my dad’s birthday. Every year, during normal circumstances, my mum will pay for dinner at a restaurant of my dad’s choice as a present. As the restaurants are currently closed because of the crisis, this is, of course, impossible. Instead, my dad searches for restaurants that deliver. After quite a bit of bad reading skills on my dad’s part, which is a whole different story, he decides on a restaurant.

Immediately when we get the box, we realize something is off. The restaurant did not deliver fully-finished hot dishes, but what I can only call a puzzle box. There are vacuum-sealed bags, plastic boxes in different shapes and sizes, and one set of plastic plates taped together. With this come instructions on how to piece everything together and how long to heat these things. My dad, disappointed by what he got, slinks off and leaves my mum and I to piece together what we have to do.

And that’s when the second problem comes to light. While the instructions are fairly easy, the ingredients are not clearly marked and the pictures are discoloured and a bit blurry. On top of that, one of the pieces does not match what’s shown on the picture at all, though the restaurant assures us it is the same.

And that’s not the worst of it. There are pieces missing. And not just small pieces. My mum’s entire appetizer is missing apart from one tube of goat cheese cream, and her main course is missing the thing which structures it all and a tube of its own flavoured creamy stuff.

My mum calls the restaurant and they send us more food, but they send two pieces of something we already had, another double, and also most of the abovementioned stuff, apart from the watercress for my mum’s appetizer. On top of that, while preparing, we realize there are more pieces missing — the apple slices for my crepes and the truffle sauce for my mum’s main dish — but by that point, we are done with the restaurant and just want to eat.

I do look on the website to see if they mention anything of the meal being pieced together like that and they do, all the way at the bottom, under the header “Allergies and food restrictions.”

I get that restaurants have to find a way to survive in this troublesome time, but this was very poorly executed. This was a fairly high-class restaurant, too, and the food wasn’t cheap. We ordered food for only three people and this much was messed up. Even though my dad enjoyed that restaurant before, I doubt he’ll ever want to do business with them again.

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Not Homeless But Humorless

, , | Right | February 24, 2021

Our restaurant isn’t fancy per se, but the food is high-quality and on the expensive side. I am serving a man in a nice suit. He is probably about sixty years old.

Me: “Hello, how is everything today?”

Customer: “It’s all right. How much does this job pay?”

I’m kind of confused by the question but I answer honestly.

Customer: “Because I’m homeless.”

He gestures to the food on the table that he clearly got from the restaurant that he’s eating at.

Customer: “Yeah, I got this food from the trash, and I was looking for a job.”

I stare at his clearly expensive suit.

Me: “Uh-huh.” 

Customer: “Aww, I’m just kiddin’ ya. You young folks are so gullible these days, you’ll believe anything I say.”

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Final Orders, And That’s Final!

, , , , | Right | February 24, 2021

Due to living in a border town when the Manitoba lockdown begins, we become the only sit-down restaurant in the area. We close every day for two hours in the afternoon and accept tables and orders accordingly so that no one feels rushed once it’s near closing time. Starting an hour prior, I remind every new table that we will be closing for our break.

Today is one of the busiest in a long time. I have to start turning away people half an hour early because I know that when the last order is ready there will only be fifteen minutes left. Seeing as it’s two ladies sharing an order of fries while they have a coffee date, I know it won’t be an issue.

As I make my way to the door to turn off the sign, I meet a man who is waiting for a table.

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re full. We close in half an hour and aren’t able to take any more tables.”

Customer: “But you have one right there.”

He points to the only empty and dirty table.

Customer: “I have three people.”

Me: “Yes, but I’m sorry we can’t take any more tables. We close in half an hour, and due to the number of orders currently waiting in the kitchen, you won’t get your food in time. We close in half an hour and everyone will need to leave.”

Normally, I offer to let people order takeout instead, but I know that my boss will be cutting off new orders any minute, and if I squeeze a new one in, she won’t be happy.

Customer: “But I have three people and you have a table right there.”

Me: “Yes, I understand. But we close in half an hour; once we close everyone has to leave. The last table that ordered will only get their food with enough time to finish eating before we close.”

Customer: “But it’s only 1:30.”

I’ve finally had enough and decide to be blunt.

Me: “We close at two; no one is allowed to stay. Your food won’t be ready until two o’clock and you won’t be allowed to stay and eat it. Everyone has to leave.”

He finally left but he didn’t look like he believed me. True to my predictions, the boss said, “No more orders,” right after the man left and the last order was ready with fifteen minutes to go.

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