1
HAILEY
This is it. Today is the day I go to jail for proving the customer is not, in fact, always right.
"Ma'am, if you can't keep your voice down, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Yelling at my employee is doing nothing to resolve this situation."
Oof. Karen doesnotlike that.
"You're going to kick me out?!" she shouts, her voice not even a fraction of a decibel lower. "After everything that stupid hostess did, your solution is to kickmeout?"
My nostrils flare with mounting annoyance. Nobody ever said managing a café in Philadelphia was going to be easy—or without our share of typical Philadelphia attitude—but this is just ridiculous.
"Ma'am, I’m asking you again to please lower your voice," I say through gritted teeth. "And if you insult my employee one more time, I will immediately escort you off the premises." I cut off her squeak of outrage by talking over whatever spluttering comeback her Karen-brain is currently trying to come up with. "If you'd like to be put on the waitlist, I'll be happy to get you seated in ten-to-fifteen minutes. But that is the only way you're going to be served today."
Her mouth drops open in outrage. "Waitlist? But we were already seated!"
I take a breath to calm myself down before my employees see me freak out for the first time in the history of my surprisingly long restaurant career.
"You were not seated," I say tightly. "You tried to make a reservation and failed, seeing as we don't take reservations, and when you walked in here, you decided you didn't want to wait and seated yourself. In an area that's not open because we don't have enough servers at this point in the day. Which is why you haven't been served. So you can either wait in the entryway like everyone else, or you can take your business elsewhere. It's up to you."
Karen continues to gawk and stutter in outrage, bits ofwell, I've neverandthis is extremely unprofessionalbeing thrown in every once in a while.
She and her mousey husband begin to stand up and gather their things. "You've officially lost a customer, congratulations," she finally snaps. "I hope you learn your lesson when I leave a horrible review and tell all my friends to stay clear of this place."
I nod and gesture toward the exit. "That is entirely your right. Have a wonderful day, ma'am. Sir."
Her eyes are practically bugging out of her head by the time she reaches the front door. We've successfully attracted the attention of the entire restaurant—packed as our small café is on a Friday brunch—and it takes everything in me not to shoo her out of the building.
Karen is still muttering and unmoving. "This is what happens when you let children manage establishments. Where is the owner? I'd like to speak with him."
"He's not here today. You're welcome to send him an email, though. Our contact information can be found on our website."
"I'm not sending anemail,"she splutters. "Just give me his phone number. I'm sure he wants to know about his staff mistreating his customers."
"Yeah, I'm not giving you the owner's number," I scoff, the Philly girl in me finally making an appearance. Once again, I gesture her toward the door.
"I haveneverbeen treated like this in all my—"
"Ma'am, get out of my restaurant before I call the cops and have you physically removed."
Her mouth drops open as she's finally stunned into silence. I aim one more not-very-customer-friendly smile at her before she officially gives up and exits in a huff, her husband skulking behind her.
I close the door with a heavy sigh.And to think, I still have five more hours today and three more days before I get a break.
But when I turn back to the restaurant, readying myself to apologize to the customers for the interruption to their meals, I'm met with applause.
The table of male college students is grinning and cheering, their whoops of appreciation sounding through the restaurant and causing other tables to quickly join in.
I can feel the blush light my cheeks at the attention and can't help trying to wave it off. Despite what just happened, customer service is actually very important to me—and I happen to be very good at it—so the last thing I need is for my restaurant to be cheering against a customer.
Even if she did deserve it and more.
I smile as I look around the seating areas. "I apologize for the interruption, please go back to your meals. My servers will be around shortly to bring every table a complimentary fruit bowl."
As everyone quiets down, I walk over to Rebecca at the hostess stand. She's one of my newer employees, though her energy and willingness to learn have made her a great hire. Of course she gets the worst Karen in all the lands on only her second week.
"Are you okay?" I ask quietly. "I'm sorry about what she said. You did nothing wrong and handled it perfectly. She had no right to speak to you like that."