SETTING: Khi Mao Kitchen
SCENE: Casual Thai FSR
LOCATION: Strip-mall, Suburbs
DAY: Wednesday
TIME: Evening
FOH STAFF: Manager, Server-1
GUESTS: Karen, ASL Interpreter
Server-1 (S-1): Because?
M: Because…it’s not for you.
S-1: But it could be, if I answer it.
M: Trust me. It'd still be for me.
S-1: Conceited much.
M: It's not conceited if EVERY customer calling actually asks to speak to me.
S-1: Answer it then, if you're so certain..
M: Hard pass.
S-1: Really? They're just gonna keep calling.
M: And we're just gonna keep ignoring them.
S-1: Pick up. Pick up pick-up pick-up…you're only delaying the inevitable. Unless….It's not someone you KNOW is it? It IS. You old slut. Who the fuck you ghosting?
M: {scoffing} Let it ring, will yah.
S-1: I'm gonna answer it.
M: I'm not here.
S-1: Khi Mao Kitchen. Uh huh. Ok. I understand. Of course. I can help you with that. Right away. Definitely. My pleasure. Hold on one second.
{She hands the phone to the Manager}
S-1: Um yeah, the call. It's for you.
M: God damned bitch.
{Shaking his head in disapproval at a smirking Server-1, the Manager takes a deep breath and brings the receiver up to his ear only to be greeted by the blessed sound of a dial tone.}
S-1: It's not all about you.
{The Manager's tone is laced with irritated insincerity to match the dramatic eye roll he gives Server-1 as she disappears into the kitchen.}
ASL Interpreter: Hello. This is a video relay service and the person calling you is speaking through an asl interpreter.
Karen (K): We have a problem. I'm angry, no furious. I don't know how! You screwed up my take out order. Again! And now I'm home, and I have nothing to eat.
M: Ok. I'm sorry about that. What name was the order under?
K: Karen. We picked up like 30 minutes ago.
M: Ok….I'm looking at your ticket, and you ordered two entrees. Pad Thai and drunken noodle, both with pork belly.
K: No. The Pad Thai was shrimp.
M: The Pad Thai had shrimp, not pork belly in it?
K: No. Both had pork belly in them.
M: So Just like you ordered. Pad Thai pork belly, drunken noodles pork belly. That's what's in your bag?
K: In my bag? Yes
M: Then the ticket matches.
K: Matches what?
M: The Fooood.
K: Yes but that’s not what I ordered. The kitchen put pork in both entrees. There's no shrimp.
M: Oh, you're missing a third shrimp dish?
K: No. We only ordered two entrees.
M: Soooo…you ordered TWO entrees. The kitchen made TWO entrees. And the bag had those TWO entrees in it.
K: But I didn't order myself pork.
M: I repeated the order back to you to make sure it was correct.
K: It was. For shrimp and pork.
M: No. I read back the same order that's on your two itemized receipts, my signed third copy, and the pink kitchen slip stapled to your bag. Two entrees with pork belly and you said yes.
K: Why would I order that? I'm Jewish. I can't eat pork. I ordered shrimp for me and pork for my husband.
M: I took the order, repeated it back, you confirmed, and the kitchen made exactly what was on the ticket. It's not our fault if you placed the wrong order.
K: Placed the wrong order? That's it. That's your response? No offer to replace it. No credit, no refund. Not even an apology. I'm supposed to just go hungry. We're regulars, for 4-5 years now, we come in at least 5 or 6 times a month. I can't believe how you're treating me, I'm a loyal customer. I pay your salary, we pay your bills.
M: You're more than welcome to pay for another entree, and we'll make sure it's ready for pickup as soon as possible.
you!!
you!!
{The Manager lights another cigarette.}
S-1: Fuck you too.
M: Language.
S-1: Hashtag dated reference boomer.
M: S'at it. Came all this way just to tease me out by the dumpsters.
S-1: My gift to You. That and dumpster tease fills my fight-the-patriarchy at work bingo card.
M: And what did we win?
S-1: Woah...slow down patriarchy pants. I... I win a commemorative "burn it all to ground" limited edition quarter.
M: ... Not a lighter...
S-1: And add fuel to a feminist fire? Not if we can collect shiny coins instead. Oh pretty bird, you don't get women at all, do you?
M: Agreed.
S-1: But what you do get is, drumroll please.
M: ...to be Burnt to ash beneath cinders of smoldering rubble in the oncoming feminist revolution...
S-1: Mmh, not yet. But I promise, after we collect all the shiny, you'll be the first man I light on fire. Burn you right out of existence. Awe, my first.
M: I’m flattered.
S-1: But until then, for your troubles, which are plentiful, you get…a taste. Few bumps to Even Steven us?
{The manager takes two large key bumps and Server-1 follows with one of her own.}
S-1: Wanna talk about that call?
M: A deaf woman screaming fuck you at me? Nah. Hats off to the translator though. No hesitation, no pause, from the deaf lady's hands to her mouth. Volume, Tone, intensity, the anger. Nailed it. And no apologies either. Class act. Real professional. That's a woman who clearly takes pride in her work.
S-1: Turned you on, Huh? That why you beelined out the back door? Got a little chubby? Getting yelled at by deaf women through translators is what does it for you? Don't answer that, no. Hush you poor dumb pretty thing.
M: Did someone really need me?
S-1: Oh yeah. And not just by title.
M: Shit….
S-1: Talkn first name level Wendell Pierce shiiiiit.
M: On the phone?
S-1: Ha, I only pick up if you're taking callers. Table 11.
M: Bruce and Mary?
{The Manager stubbed out his cigarette and throws the butt in the dumpster.}
S-1: Um…I guess..not sure about names but yeah, the regs.
M: Fuck my life. What’d they need?
S-1: Don't think they NEED anything.
M: Then, what do they want?
S-1: You. Pretty sure I said that.
M: For?
S-1: Didn’t say.
M: What did they say?
S-1: Bye.
M: You goddamn bitch.
S-1: Too soon?
M: Fuck you...