Front gal was irritated when I got to work.
She hurumphed and pfffffd and stomped around in the kitchen, muttering about one of her earlier customers.
He was upset because we don’t have fries.
He wanted a hamburger, and when he saw Bacon Cheeseburger on the menu, tried to order it with fries.
“We don’t have fries,” she explained.
“No fries? Who serves a burger without fries!” he argued.
“Um, sir? That isn’t a burger. It’s a pizza. See? Right here… it’s a gourmet pizza that we make,” she said.
He insisted that he wanted a burger, and when she finally convinced him that we don’t serve burgers, he said “Fine. Just give me a sandwich. I don’t care which one.”
She asked which one he’d like, and even his wife tried to convince him to choose, so he finally agreed to a cheesesteak sub.
Front gal and the grumpy man’s wife shared a look, the wife paid, and the couple sat down.
When the sub was delivered, he told the server that it was the wrong sub, that he didn’t want “that one” and refused to eat it.
You can’t please all of the people all of the time, I know. But looking back on it, I should have gone next door to In n’ Out and bought him a burger, then sold it with a commission.