The Family Business Is None Of Yours, Part 2
(I work in a semi-fancy family-owned Italian restaurant. There is Michael Sr., who is elderly, Michael Jr., who took over the business, and Amanda, the daughter. I get a table of four in…)
Me: “Hi, my name is Sarah. Can I get you started with some Christmas Ales?”
Customer: “I’m Michael’s brother, and I always get a family discount here.”
Me: *playing along* “Okay, Michael Jr., right? So Michael Sr. is your father?”
Customer: “Yeah.”
Me: “So you must be Dan.”
Customer: “Yep, that’s me. And I always get a family discount.”
Me: “You know, I’m really glad you’re here. What is your sister’s name? I can never remember, and I don’t want to be rude and ask her.”
Customer: *suddenly defensive* “Why do you need to know?”
Me: “Because it’s a family business, and she’s part of the family, and she comes around sometimes, and I should really know her name.”
Customer: “Well, ask someone else.”
Me: *politely* “You can’t tell me your sister’s name?”
Customer: “It’s… Stephanie.”
Me: *smiling* “Wrong. It’s Amanda. And Michael doesn’t have a brother named Dan. Nice try. How ’bout those Christmas Ales?”
(The cheapskates ordered water, and I went in the back and, thankfully, Michael was in that day, so I told him and my manager about it. I even informed them that I got condescending, and I apologized for any backlash it might cause them. They just laughed and told me ‘good job.’ Then I went to deliver their drinks, and they had left.)
