It was a busy Tuesday night. Not too busy, but enough where every table had people eating. I like Tuesdays because it feels like a normal night. I work at this family restaurant, the one with the big play area for kids. My job is serving food and making sure everyone is happy. I have a little birthmark on my left palm. It looks like a tiny tree branch, very small, but it’s always there when I look down.
I was cleaning some tables near the play area when she came in. She was a young woman, maybe twenty or twenty-one. She had a couple of small kids, maybe three and five years old. They were holding her hands. She had a pretty face, I guess, but she looked a bit tired, like any mom with young kids. Her hair was light brown. What I remember most about her eyes was that one was blue and the other was a little bit green. It was not easy to see, but if you looked close, you could tell. She looked around the restaurant like she owned the place, even though she was a little bit rounder than some people I see in magazines. She walked with her chin up.
I showed them to a table in my section. She put the kids in the high chairs and gave them some menus. The kids started looking at the pictures of the food. She smiled at me, a quick, almost fake smile. I took their drink orders. She ordered a fancy juice, something with fruit and sparkling water. The kids wanted apple juice.
Later, I brought their food. She had ordered a big burger with lots of toppings. The kids had chicken nuggets and fries. Everything looked good. I checked on them a few minutes later. She was halfway through her burger. The kids were eating their nuggets, making a little mess, as kids do. She was talking on her phone, not looking at her kids much.
After a while, she finished her burger. I mean, she ate almost all of it. Maybe one bite was left. The kids were done too. They were squirming in their seats. I went to clear their plates. When I picked up her plate, she looked up at me. Her expression changed.
She said the burger was not good. She said it was cold. I was confused because she had eaten almost everything. She said it was bad from the first bite but she was too polite to say anything then. She pointed to the little bit of burger left. She said no one should have to pay for food that was not good. She said it made her stomach hurt. The kids started to cry a little bit, maybe because they were bored or maybe because their mom was getting louder.
I tried to explain that we usually need to know about a problem earlier, so we can fix it. I said I could get her a manager. She rolled her eyes. She put her hands on her hips. She looked around the restaurant, like she was making sure other people were watching. She said she did not have time for managers. She said she was a busy mom. She looked straight at me, her blue and green eyes very focused. She said she just wanted the meal for free and the kids’ meals too because this bad food made them upset.
I felt my heart beat a little faster. This kind of thing happened sometimes. I knew I needed to get my manager. I looked across the room for Maria, my supervisor. I saw her talking to the cooks in the back. I raised my hand a little bit to get her attention. She gave me a small nod, meaning she saw me and would come soon. It would take a few minutes for her to finish what she was doing.
While I waited, the young woman kept talking. She talked about how good customers should be treated. She talked about how hard it was to be a mother. She even said something about how she should be given things for free because she was a beautiful person, which made me feel a bit confused, but I just nodded. Her voice was getting louder. People at other tables started looking over.
Then, something happened. A man at a table behind her, an older man with gray hair, started to speak very loudly. He was wearing hearing aids, I think, but they did not seem to be working well. He had eaten most of his chicken sandwich. He had probably only heard some of her loud words about bad food. He started yelling that his chicken was bad too! He said it was dry! He held up his plate with one bite left, just like her. He was really loud.
Now, a few more people were looking. The young woman looked surprised for a second, then she smiled. She turned to the old man. She said, yes, this restaurant was serving bad food to everyone! She said they should all get their meals for free! The old man nodded vigorously, looking angry. The kids in her high chairs were now crying more. It was getting chaotic. My stomach felt like butterflies were flying inside it.
Maria, my manager, finally walked over. She looked tired. She had probably heard the noise from the back. She asked what was going on. The young woman started talking very fast, pointing at her empty plate and then at the old man’s empty plate. She said the food was terrible. She said she and the other gentleman had both been served bad food. She said it was an outrage. She spoke so clearly and quickly, telling her story, making it sound very convincing. She even said the bad food made her kids sick. The old man just kept nodding.
Maria listened to her. She looked at the plates. She looked at the crying kids. She sighed a big sigh. I just stood there, holding my tree-birthmark hand behind my back. I did not say much because I knew Maria had heard these kinds of stories before too. She just wanted the problem to go away.
Maria said she was very sorry. She told the young woman that her meal and the kids’ meals would be free. She also offered her a gift card for next time. The young woman smiled big. She said thank you, very sweet now. The old man still looked mad, but Maria offered him a free dessert, and he seemed happy with that.
The young woman took her free receipt and her gift card. She got her kids out of the high chairs. She looked at me for a moment, a knowing look, like she had won something important. Then she walked out, chin still high.
I cleaned the table. The floor was messy with crumbs from the kids. I felt a little tired myself. I knew I would probably see her again. People like that, they always come back. And I always had to be ready.
