That Would Be A Mis-Steak, Part 2

I am having a late dinner by myself after a long day’s work. Next to me, there is a “lady” and her husband; she is giving the waitress h***. It is clearly not deserved; she’s just picky and unreasonable, blaming her for everything — the usual sort of thing we read here. She also sends her steak back — too well done.

When the redo comes back, I say to her:

Me: “I admire you. So strong and so brave.”

She looks at me, trying to figure out how it could be an insult.

Lady: *Suspiciously* “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, you’re brave enough to piss off someone who is totally able to determine what goes into your food — someone who can do things to it you would probably never think of or find out about.”

The waitress nearly loses it. She replies, obviously trying desperately to keep a laugh down, but a quarter-laugh escapes.

Waitress: “Oh, don’t worry, madam; there’s nothing in your food you need to be concerned about.”

The woman looks at her steak for a long time while the waitress goes to go look after other people, looks at me, looks at the steak, gets up, and walks out. She can’t get out without paying, though.

The waitress comes back and smiles.

Waitress: “Say, since she’s paid, how would you like a free steak? I can cancel your main. I promise there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Free steak night!

Related:
That Would Be A Mis-Steak