I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

For the past two years I’ve searched for a pen that I truly like to use at work. 

Sounds silly, but see yesterday’s post about spending money.

I found a pen that I thought I liked, had Adam order them for me, and they were fine, but he explained that I’d like a different tip on the same pen better.  He was right, so I have been using those pens for the past few months.

There is ONE server who uses my pens, but the rest use whatever they can grab at the bank

So last night I was sitting at the chef’s table accepting checkouts, and when only one server was left I realized that my pen was gone.

I accused the server in front of me, who has known forever about my pen obsession.  He assured me he had not taken my pen.

I put the disappearing pen on my notes sheet.  I needed to have Nancy Drew get to the bottom of the disappearing pen.

Tonight’s shift comes and goes with no pen. 

I’m sitting down at the end of the night and the last person sits down to do their cash out and I realize my pen is missing again.  I look up and it’s in HIS hand. 

I then get out my magnifying glass and pipe and start to interrogate him. 

He doesn’t even answer my first question.

He pulls last night’s pen out of his pocket and hands it to me.  As well as the one he already had in his hand. 

All is well in the world of Jeffery. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight I was standing at the kitchen window, checking in to make sure all was well.

A server approached the window and asked the chef a question, that I could not hear.

He answered, and I could hear his answer.

So I asked the server and the chef what was going on…it’s kind of my job to know these things.

Table 37 had asked if we used LARD in our empanadas. Chef had told the server no. We do not. She had reappeared, with his new cookbook in hand to show him that for the empanadas in the cookbook one of the ingredients was lard.

He laughed out loud at this.

Then explained that the recipe in the book was NOT the recipe we followed in the restaurant.

He further explained that the recipe in his cookbook was his father’s family’s recipe, that he’d grown up with. They cooked their empanadas in Argentina in lard.

Here in America (emphasis on America) we bake them, with olive oil. He assured her there was no lard used for empanadas.

As she walked away, I told her that I would deliver the message to Table 37. They found it very funny that we used a different recipe, but explained that they don’t eat lard and so they were worried. I shared that the chef was impressed that they’d looked it up in the cookbook.

They had a great meal.

I checked in with them on their way out and they’d had a great time.