A woman called my restaurant today:
"I would like you to save a piece of apple pie for when I come in later today for lunch."
"Absolutely, we'll have it sitting and ready for you!" replied the waitress who answered the call.
With care, she took the last slice of pie from the refrigerated display case to the counter top, where she then proceeded to gingerly lay the slice on a dining plate she took time to decorate with chocolate swirls in a spider-web shape. Lovely! The plate and pie was placed back into the display case, where it remained for several hours.
At approximately 11:3o AM, the lady arrived. Unnerved by the fact that there wasn't a red, velvet carpet leading from the entrance of the restaurant to the pie case, she shuffled around, trying to crane her head over the register until someone would acknowledge her presence. I responded.
"Hello, mam. May I hel--"
"I called ahead to save a slice of apple pie. Where is it?"
"Oh well it's right here, mam. We have it on a plate and everyth--"
"Can you put that into a box already?? I don't want anybody else taking it. It's for me!"
I blinked once with confusion, but I remembered she was not telepathic. The entire serving staff had been alerted ahead of time to this arrangement. We were all well aware of her ownership of the pastry. Nevertheless, she still was not aware that I knew it was hers. I forgave her, and then put the pie slice into a pink pastry box. I informed her waitress of the change.
