A woman came into my restaurant looking for her friends who were already there. The place is small, and you can see every seat from the front door. I hand her a menu, and say, “Take a look, they’ve gotta be here.”
She looks at me, then at the menu in fear and confusion. I ask her what’s wrong. She says, “How do you have a map of where everyone is sitting?” She thought we live-printed maps every time someone new came through the doors.
I stayed frozen on the couch, phone still in my hand, my heart beating with guilt I couldn’t admit. By the time my husband returned hours later,…
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