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Great customer service

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“This is not my order” said the tall, brooding customer with barely contained disdain. 

 

Doph and Thanisson exchanged worried looks and checked the order. They were both in training, but their manager had just gone to give a hand in the kitchen and the big boss was buried in the usual paperwork that came with the end of the fiscal year. He left the door to his office ajar in case he was needed, but every time they had called him that morning he had fixed them an icy stare and told them to bother Phasma, the manager, with that. 

 

“Sir, what’s in your tray fits with your order. What seems to be the problem?”

 

“Excuse me”, he took a quick glance to his name plate, “Dopheld, are you hearing impaired? I said this is not my order!”. 

 

Doph managed to look almost completely calm —almost—, but Thanisson flinched visibly at the customer rising his voice. He was a big man with broad shoulders and huge hands, and Thanisson was a scrawny twink unable to decide between fear and arousal. His reaction was completely understandable. 

 

“I heard you, sir. Wha-what I’m trying to say is, the order I’ve got here”, Dopheld unhelpfully waved the recipe, “and what you have there on the tray, eh, is the same”.

 

The customer looked at him menacingly, hands resting on the counter making him stoop over it slightly, thus contributing to his fierce look, completed by his dark, unkempt, shoulder-long hair. He blinked unbelievingly, working his jaw, and started to talk lowly, gaining volume and rage as he went:

 

“This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I am FUCKING STARVING and your fucking health-nuts menu is FUCKING OVERPRICED, and it took FOREVER for you to get it done, and you gave me THE WRONG ORDER. It’s the third time I tell you, Dopheld, what kind of stupid name is that, by the way?”

 

By then, the roughly a dozen people having their lunch in the local had all stopped, some of them with forks midway to their mouths, and were watching the show. The two guys holding hands, and the girl with a bright blue umbrella that were waiting in line looked about to jump in poor Doph’s defense. 

 

“I’m going to get Phasma”, said Thanisson as he rushed past Dopheld and into the kitchen. Dopheld swallowed before addressing the customer again.

 

“Sir, there is no need to raise your voice”

 

“It looks like there is, Stupid Name, because you are not listening to me! Do I need to repeat myself? I. Didn’t. Order. THIS! Is your hipster brain not working? Is all the bio food atrophying it back to the fucking paleolithic?”

 

“Enough! I heard enough!”, said Mr. Hux emerging from his office with his reading glasses up his forehead, a bunch of bills in one hand and a pencil over his ear, right when Dopheld was wondering where the hell was Thanisson with Phasma. “Please, sir, explain to me 

calmly what seems to be the problem”.

 

“The problem, carrot cake, is that your boy here not only took my order WRONG but he also can’t seem to understand THAT IT IS WRONG”, he shouted in Dopheld’s face. “I paid too much for my order, I waited way too much for it, and I want it properly done!”

 

Mr. Hux was usually the most prim and proper person Dopheld, Thanisson or Phasma had ever met. He was stern, but never lost his temper. Unless he was talking about something he was really invested in, he barely spoke over a low, soothing, posh rumble. But trying to close his restaurant first fiscal year with a madman yelling in his local had probably taken him to his unsuspected limit, and he bursted out expansively right when Phasma, Thanisson and two non-descript cooks joined Dopheld behind the counter:

 

“I paid, I waited, I deserve, wha-wha-wha! I am done with this! This is exactly the reason all you straight cis-males are TRASH!”, he bellowed, poking an accusatory finger on the obnoxious goth jock that was upsetting his nice restaurant. 

 

“WRONG AGAIN, BITCH, I LIKE DICK TOO!”

 

The silence that followed was only broken by Phasma’s involuntary “Oh, boy”, accompanied by a surprised yet uncomfortable face. 

 

Hux dropped his belligerent stance, befuddling the berated customer. He spoke again with his usual measured tone:

 

“What was your first order, sir?” 

 

The man looked wrong-footed. He rested one hand on his hip and scratched his nape with the other.

 

“The quinoa complete bowl and a big Palawan juice with extra ginger”.

 

Other than a faint blush over his cheekbones, Hux didn’t show any sign of noticing the involuntary innuendo. He looked at Thanisson:

 

“Get that ready and bring it to my office with a cup of Earl Grey. And two pieces of carrot cake”, he added looking at the customer dead in the eye. “Now if you could follow me, we can discuss this matter in private”.