My 90 year old mother rarely cooks anymore. I usually have her over for dinner--especially holiday dinners. This year, we decided to have a crown rib pork roast with a cherry-apricot-apple dressing, green bean casserole, agave glazed carrots, pumpkin pie and Royal Chef Darren McGrady's Chocolate Tea Biscuit Cake.
Monday I went to the butcher counter in the market I've patronized for over 30 years and ordered the roast, French cut, to be picked up Tuesday at 5 p.m. The man at the counter had me write it down in the order book, myself, and sign it.
Tuesday, I went in to pick up the roast.
"I'm sorry, but no one ordered a crown rib pork roast for today".
"Yes, I did. I wrote it in the special order book myself. And signed it."
"I'm sorry, but no one ordered a crown rib pork roast for today."
"Go look in the special order book."
"Oh. Here it is. No one posted this on today's work board. I'm sorry, it isn't ready."
"Will you have it ready tomorrow?"
"Oh, yes, definitely!"
"At the sale price?"
"Oh, yes, definitely."
Wednesday, I went in to pick up the roast.
"I'm here to pick up my special order crown rib pork roast. The name is Roberts."
"Oh, yes. I worked over an hour on your order today. It was just beautiful."
It was beautiful. It. Was. Beautiful. WAS??
"There's a problem with your order."
"Really?"
"Someone set it in the display case and sold it."
"You sold my special order French cut crown rib pork roast. To Someone Else."
"I'm sorry. I have a four pound--"
"You've sold the 10 pound French cut crown rib roast that I ordered on Monday, to be picked up Tuesday that wasn't done on time, that you spent over an hour on today, to someone else???"
"I'm really very sorry. If you come back in 30 minutes, I'll have a 10 pound crown rib for you."
"I'm not leaving without my order."
I stood there for 30 minutes.
I got my order at the sale price.
It wasn't the French cut.
The French cut would have made a prettier presentation.
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