| rev:text
| - I get to the cafe around 7:30am on a Wednesday morning. There are about two other parties present in the restaurant. The woman server greets me and offers coffee with cream. Unfortunately, the cream curdles in the coffee and is sent back along with other coffees. The server says, "Not you too!" and and says something to the effect of this not being her day, as she spills some of the coffee, drops her pen on the floor and acts flustered. When the server has collected herself, I order the stuffed French toast and the server says that it'd be ready in about 10 minutes. She pops in and out of the kitchen. I can smell the toast being cooked in the kitchen not too far behind me, but then I start to smell something burning. I continue to wait for my order.
Sometime during this time, a really nice male server comes into work and checks in on everyone and refills everyone's coffee. The female server appears to have stayed in the kitchen to cook. After about 20 minutes of waiting, the male server brings me a very darkened French toast with a side of tofu. I take just a bite of the crust and it definitely tastes like it's been cooking just a bit too long. Crunchy and burned. I contemplate just sucking it up and eating it since I've waiting a while already, but then I decide to send it back (not something I usually do), telling the male server that my toast was pretty burned. He goes back to the kitchen and then I hear, "I'm not making her new toast!" from the kitchen area from the female server/chef. I wasn't sure if I was hearing this correctly, but then I heard it again. I wonder if I would have to defend why I sent the toast back to the kitchen. The thought crosses my mind to just pay for the coffee and leave.
The male server re-emerges, and I tell him that the toast had been pretty burned. He looks apologetic and says that they were working on making a new one, but that it'd take a little time. I decide to wait. Another 20 minutes or so go by and then finally, my stuffed French toast comes out in the proper color and texture. I pay for my food and the male server thanks me for being patient and says that even the best chefs have bad days. It ends up being around 9am by the time I leave the restaurant. There are still only about two other parties present, but a different two.
So maybe it really wasn't the woman server/chef's day, but this wasn't an excuse to serve a customer burned food or to have customers hear her yelling out from the kitchen. Unprofessional.
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