Human beings don’t make mistakes!
"I was 17, and working as a server at a pretty high-end restaurant in my small Jersey Shore town. It was small, maybe 20 tables total. I didn’t have a lot of experience, but the owners were my neighbors, so they were kind enough to hire me anyway.
"I will never forget the four-top that came in towards the end of a slow weeknight: two white, snobby as hell New Yorker [Editor’s Note: You don’t have to repeat yourself. HEY-O!] couples in their 40s. This was twenty years ago, so some details are murky, but I recall it started out fine. Apps went out OK, but the dinner order was mildly confusing, as they insisted on splitting two entrees between the four of them. All racks of lamb, but each half order needed to be cooked a different way.
"Whatever, the lamb came out fine and they all loved it. Later, the restaurant was empty and about to close, and they were all wasted. One of the men, after using the bathroom, suddenly burst through the doors of the (not open, very small) kitchen. The head chef politely kicked him out. He got back to the table and complained to his wife, who said, all suspiciously, 'Oh we're not allowed in the kitchen? I don't like that!' What? Do most restaurants invite you to just wander back there whenever?