July 1, 2012
I was innocently walking over to my first table of the afternoon shift when it happened. The elderly woman I was serving had witnessed a sudden disappearance. The chicken quesadillas had been ruthlessly snatched from our menu, and she wanted to enact justice on those responsible. However, I persuaded her that the best revenge was living well. Thus, I committed myself to helping her create a chicken quesadilla alternative by customizing a barbecue chicken wrap to show the fiends that she had not given up.
The order was, to say the least, complicated. With our heads bent over a menu, we conspired to make the chicken hot, take out the ranch dressing, put the barbecue sauce on the side, and add avocado, blackbeans, and sour cream as dips on the side. By the end of it, the traditional barbecue wrap had been transformed into a cylinder shaped quesadilla. Sure, it was not piping hot, and the cheddar cheese could have been melted a little bit more, but she was happy.
Unfortunately, the case of the missing quesadillas still has not been solved. They remain absent from our menu, probably chewed up and spit out in an alleyway somewhere. I highly doubt that corporate is going to hire a private investigator to find them. Still, if I, personally, can fill the void in my guests' lives and provide some closure, then I guess I've done my job right.
These dirty plates aren't the only thing that's a hot mess. #servergirlstruggz
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