The morning started innocently enough. After a few scares of “food panic,” that anxiety that sets in when the waiter comes by and asks if you are ready and you’re not, but also don’t want to send him away for fear that it’ll be an hour before he’s seen again, our three-top had most of our orders all figured out. I wanted a veggie omelet, but four egg omelet featured on the menu was a bit excessive, even for me. The waiter assured me he make a supposed-to-be-four-egg omelet with two eggs. “We actually do have a two-egg omelet,” he said and pointed to the “Two Egg Cheese Omelet with Hash Browns and Toast.” Perfect. I said that I wanted that, but with veggies. “No cheese?” he asked. And cheese, yes. That should have been our first clue that something was amiss. I take it back, the first clue should have been that he was a fledgeling waiter and actually our second server of the morning.
When the last-to-order person placed her last-to-order order, it included, but was not limited to, toast. “How would you like that?” asked the waiter, like it was a 64-ounce steak that’s on the menu on Wednesday nights. Medium? Rare? It took a while for her to find an answer, which is impressive in itself, as she usually is able to fire off something catchy instantaneously. That, my friends, should have been the second clue. We ribbed the waiter a bit, all in good humor, and settled down to drink our coffee and tea.
Finally, a parade of servers marched down the aisle to our table, each brandishing plates enough to feed a circus. My delivery person sat down… a cheese omelet, with toast, and corn. Corn? What? I seemed to be missing my hash browns and the veggies that were supposed to be inside the omelet. I really don’t like making a fuss. If I get carrots instead of broccoli at a restaurant, I just accept that maybe I need more beta carotene in my diet. But I really wanted a veggie omelet and hash browns. “I’m sorry,”our server simply said, and began to walk away. He then reconsidered, came back, and asked, “Do you just want a new omelet?” Thankfully, a seasoned waitress (our original server of the day), and one person our of our group, intervened. The solution was simple enough: just bring the veggies that were supposed to be inside the omelet the whole time. And the plate of hash browns that, according to our server, were sitting in the pass. The poor guy couldn’t figure out where they were supposed to go.