I'm an unsatisfied customer
I'm in a restaurant/deli place, standing at a counter looking in a glass case at the warm dishes inside. I see a chicken breast, several different pastas and some veggies. I make my order, telling the woman on the other side. There are some other young women standing with me; I'm in their group. The friend on my right asks me what I ordered. I point out the chicken and another dish. She remarks how standard my choices are. The woman behind the counter is distinct looking, with brown hair and an apron, late 20s or early 30s. She is serving my pasta onto a round white plate. It is a dish of thick fetticini noodles in a creamy pink tomato sauce. She does not serve much onto the plate. It's arranged in a circle along the edge of the plate, leaving a big space in the center. It does not look like enough to satisfy my hunger. I ask the woman if she could put a little more on my plate -- one more scoop. She says no. I'm surprised at her reply. I tell her that I've seen other plates of the same order, and that they've had more pasta on them. She says that it doesn't matter, she's not going to give me any more. I'm frusterated. I tell her that I expect the restaurant to have CONSISTENCY. She's rudely abrupt. There's now another woman behind the counter, left of the other one. I ask her if I can speak to the manager. "Our manager, Mal, is going to be busy for about the next 10 minutes or so, because our TV just broke," she says. I'm mad. I have a friend on my left who is also frusterated. The friend blows up at the first woman (whose name I now know: Abby, as in "Dear Abby"), calling her an alcoholic. I suddenly notice that she IS sipping a small plastic cup of white wine, the drunk bitch.
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