...at the one (Thai) restaurant where I work now:
1) A (Latino) family of four including a (rotund) (Puerto Rican-accented) (all-white-wearing) father and the (short-haired) (eyebrow-pierced) (college-age) daughter come in, and it turns out that the whole family is vegan, so I lead them through the menu and give them some recommendations and even make sure that their fried rice doesn’t have egg in it.
Afterwards, the dad comes up to me and asks me if they let me keep tips here, since they haven’t had service like that “for a while” and he could Zelle me, though I tell him it's all good, we get tips and we actually split them since we share all of the work fairly, and to just leave it on the bill, and thank you very much.
(They leave $40 on the like $100 bill.)
2) A (fatter) (late middle-aged) (black) lady asks what this one entrĂ©e tastes like, and I tell her, and then she says out loud that well she can order it, and if she doesn’t like it, she can always just send it back.
“I’m actually not sure what our policy is on that,” I’m like.
“Well, can you check,” she was like.
So, I hustled back to the one (tired-face) (female) (Thai) restaurant owner, and she says we can do that.
“Even if they taste it and just don’t like something, like it's not even made wrong or anything?!?!”, I was like.
“Yeah,” she was like.
“But what happens if they order something else, and then they don’t like that one either?”, I was like. “What do I do then?”
“Memorize their face,” she was like.
(Moot point -- the lady ended up liking the dish.)
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