He narrows his eyes at me, clearly sensing the hostility in my tone. “I’ll have the steak and potatoes.”
“Alright.”
I am about to turn around when he says, “You didn’t write it down.”
“Excuse me?”
“My order,” he says pointedly. “You didn’t write down my order.”
My jaw tightens. He’s doing this deliberately. I know it.
Giving him a tight smile, I scribble down his order, and once again, when I turn to leave, he stops me. “You’re not going to ask me what I want to drink?”
I close my eyes briefly before turning back and sighing audibly, as if he has seriously inconvenienced me. Poising my pen on my notepad, I ask, “Would you like a beverage, sir?”
“What do you have available?”
I give him a bland look. “The menu is in your hands, sir.”
What does he want me to do? Recite the entire dr
