This was told to me by a friend and when I heard it, I lost it, so I’ll share it with you because it’s too good not to. The friend who gave me this little gift owns a very cool restaurant, serving great Southern cuisine. She is a talented chef with a vivacious personality and is a hoot to hang with. Her Mom, an elegant and gracious woman, handles the front of the house. This is a powerful team and although it was their first experience in their own business, hard work, determination, personality and style have made it a resounding success. And let me tell ya’, “It ain’t easy.” After getting their “sea-legs” and were up and running for a bit they decided to do a Sunday brunch. I’m personally so adverse to the meal that I won’t let anyone even say the word in my restaurants. We refer to it as the B-word. Don’t get me wrong, I do a few brunches a year, mostly on holidays like Mother’s Day, but only then and I usually weasel out of the shift thereby rewarding a very faithful staff with the dirty work. Rank does have certain privileges. So when my friend told me that she was going to be serving brunch at her restaurant I said, “Great, good luck.” What I was thinking was, “Great, gooood luuuck!” One Sunday morning my friend got a call from a woman inquiring about brunch. She asked my friend if they would be serving brunch that day. My friend said, “Yes we are.” The woman asks, “And what time does your brunch end?’ My friend answers, “We serve until 4:00 and then we switch over to dinner.” The woman asks, “How much is your brunch? My friend tells her, “Its $20.95 including fountain drinks coffee and tea.” The woman then says, “Is there any possible way to extend your brunch today because I’m not sure I can make it by 4:00.” My friend says, “I don’t think we can do that. I have to get set for dinner.“ The woman politely tells my friend, “Well I was hoping you could make this one exception. I love your restaurant and have come many times and was telling some friends that I would like to bring them there
#9 Half Baked
One relatively quiet lunch, I was on the line when a server came in and said, “Chef-o, I have two ladies out there who want to split a hamburger. Is that a problem?” I said, “No I’ll just cut it in half.” She says, “Well, I don’t think that’s going to work.” “Why not?” “One woman wants hers cooked medium rare and the other one wants hers cooked medium.” “Are you kidding?” “Sorry. What do you want me to tell them?” “Tell them the hamburger is $6.00 for God’s sake. How much am I supposed to endure for $6.00? Tell them it’s ridiculous and I’m not doing it.” She said, “Okay I’ll tell them but I’m leaving out the endure and the ridiculous part. I’ll just tell them we can’t do it.” “Fine.” Five minutes later the waitress comes back into the kitchen and orders 1 hamburger, medium rare. I ask, “Is that the burger for those two ladies?” “Yes.” “They’re alright with having it medium rare?” She said, “I told them we couldn’t do it and they just said, “Whatever. Make it medium rare.’” “Okay cool.” I cooked the burger, cut it in half, garnished it and sent it out. Two minutes later the waitress came back in the kitchen with one half of the burger and said, “Okay there genius, this lady wants more fire on her half of the burger. I’d say medium ought to do it.” I started to cry.
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