a restaurant customer fable

Those of us who work in restaurants tend to think we've heard it all. We've served so many dipshits that the stories tend to pour out like the taps. Ask any restaurant employee for a story. Ask the servers about customers. Ask the kitchen about dumbass servers. Ask the management about the three, customers, servers and cooks. There is enough there for a lifetime of tales and parables.

So many of the best stories that come out of restaurants don't involve the customers. Those are the good stories, the late night post work barhop where you had that perfect end to an evening. Meeting up with some coworkers for just about any event, from a softball or soccer game to a baby shower, it's all the same, because they all end in the cups.

The customer stories are never good. I often think I've heard it all, or I am certain that a restaurant story can't shock me. But then the customer shows up, and they can't help but make you want to start choking people.

I may have mentioned my lovely wife before. I may have mentioned that she works at a really cool sushi bar here in town. The place has been slammed since it opened, and the people love the sushi. I'm not personally the biggest fan. It's part seaweed and part texture, but that's not even another post. That's just me.

Food allergies are real and can be very serious. I have a nephew who is deathly allergic to peanuts. He is a cool, bright and fun kid. His first words had to do with his allergies, because they are so serious that it was what he heard about first. He picked it up as kids do. I love my nephew and understand taking precautions, and as a cook, I'm willing to make allowances whenever possible and within reason to accomodate a variety of customers.

Having said all that, who the fuck goes to a sushi bar, only to tell the staff that they are seriously allergic to shellfish? And who the fuck does it on a Friday night? Seriously!?

If it were ONLY the crab and shrimp it would still be a pain in the ass. For a single customer, Momma has to wash down the entire area where the sushi will be put together. This involves taking the five foot cutting board off the line entirely to scrub it down. She has to clean her knives and use all new utensils or clean the ones she has. She has to stop everything she is doing on a Friday night to do this for a single person who went to a restaurant that specializes in part in the very thing that can kill him. And then the son of a bitch, after he finished his special food, ordered more, putting the entire kitchen staff through the clean up a second time. All this stopped the entire kitchen basically, slowing down everything but the rest of the customers. I want a time machine and to go and choke that fucking guy.