The Customer is Always Right

June was fat. I know you can’t say people are fat anymore, so I’ll say it again: June was fat. She had a puffy fat face, she had thick fat legs, and she was as wide as she was tall. But, she had an entertaining personality. I don’t know how she got the job or when, but she was waitress at the restaurant long before I showed up. And, as waitresses go, she was pretty good at it.

The problem was not her, it was the customers. The world has gone too soft on customers, especially in restaurants. I am always amazed at how many restaurants exist, even in a small town, and how so many can remain open. I just assume they are all making money, or else they would have to close, right? Either way, apparently it is too much competition, because they all are insane about their customers. I don’t know who said, “The customer is always right” but it was the restaurants that listened. Customers in restaurants get away with the lowest, sleaziest crap this way. And it is the restaurant staff that pays the price for it. They don’t call it the service industry for nothing. People certainly treat them like servants and expect them to act like it, too.

It is quite common for customers to come in just before closing-- too close, in fact. This really stresses the staff. They want to get home or at least off work just like everyone else. Another issue is the resources themselves—do they have enough food, dishes, napkins, etc. for more customers so late in the day? Trying to get done early as a cook is especially risky. They need to clean everything before they can go. If someone comes in after they start cleaning, they are just going to have to start all over again.

The biggest problem on this particular day was that these late customers were regular customers. They were not favorite customers since no one really liked them. But they were regular customers and repeat business is absolutely essential to the survival of a restaurant (or so “they” say.) They ordered their usual, which was one T-Bone well done and one T-Bone rare. It takes about 45 minutes to cook a steak well done. This meant everyone involved would be getting done late. Everyone was expecting that already when they walked in, and nerves were frayed because of it. But, they knew enough to not show it, of course.

Then the final straw happened. The customers sent the steak back. Ironically, it was not the well-done order that came back, it was the rare steak. Why was it sent back? It wasn’t cooked enough! The rare steak was not cooked enough! You have got to be kidding, right?

June was furious! But, not in front of the customers, of course. She politely took the complaint and the steak back to the kitchen. That’s where she lost control. She grabbed the steak with both hands, raised it above her head, and with all her might, threw it to the ground with a loud slap! But she wasn’t through. She, all 270 pounds of her, bent her knees as far as she dared, and thrust her massive frame as high and taught into the air as she could go. At the apex, she curled her knees up under herself again, and before she landed, she quickly extended both feet on the steak at the same time, stomping it into the floor. Without the slightest hesitation, she picked the steak up, and tossed it onto the grill. She let it sizzle for about a minute, then flipped it over for another minute. Satisfied it was now cooked, but still “rare” she plated the steak, fixed a grin from ear to ear and marched the steak back to the customer.

The customer never knew a thing about it. I am sure that June was able to channel her vindication like a wave of second wind. I am sure the customer was cooed and coddled like the baby they were and felt just exactly how they wanted on their big night. In fact, I found out later that the customer ended up giving June an unusually generous tip, which did not surprise me. What still gets everyone laughing to this day is how they gushed and praised about how tender that steak became!