According to Stephan (Steve until he entered the industry), the customer is not always right. Oh no, the customer is a bloated cash cow loaded with bottomless pockets for his wankertorium of an eatery.

He doesn’t really care about his customers, he just wants a spread in a Qantas or GQ magazine, perhaps a guest appearance on Masterchef.

Accordingly, his prices still reflect the artificial cash bubble of yester-decade, and he is having trouble understanding why his profits are struggling like the negotiations for a second Amy Schumer Netflix comedy special.

He laments another unprofitable night. “Uncultured barbarians just come in for the cheapest main ($35) and tap water!” Well, he ain’t 2Pac, but surely he knows that he needs to make some changes because all he sees is barely fed faces.

Actually nah, he didn’t watch every season of Masterchef and take a 2-day cookery class with the human turtle George Calombaris to lower himself to parmas and shudders steak nights.

During Saturday night service he plates up a single leg of 8-grain Helgas fed-duck confit, flowers he raided from his grandma’s garden and a stack of potato rectangles that look like the most pretentious game of Jenga one is likely to see.

It is then served on a $100 board that was carved from rare oak and seasoned with twice iodised Himalayan pink rock salt that 3 child labourers perished harvesting. All of which is factored into the $45 price tag.

He then stares at a customer who picks up the wrong fork like they were Bill Cosby purchasing sleeping tablets before the Bieber concert. He storms over to the table, “no, no, no that fork is for your main, THIS is the right fork”.

The customer swiftly replies, “yeh whatever, by the way, dude, have you got a plate, getting sauce all over my pants here”. A plate? A fucking plate? What do you think this is 2010? Our overpriced food is served on chopping boards now, love it, or fucking leave it cunt.

It’s 2017, why does cutlery protocol need to be enforced as smugly as a social justice warrior dropping a status about Section 18C? Why is the humble plate a culinary pariah? Why did those two prawns just set you back $21?

You may as well ask for your wine in a sippy cup and pretend you’re not grateful when a waiter’s hand comes within 2cm of your genitals when placing a napkin on your lap.

No, just like the Taxi industry, Stephan is going to continue to offer an unappetising service and blame the consumer at every turn.

Then when the industry gets Uber’d he will ask for a tissue to dry his eyes, but all he’ll get is the crotch napkin that we didn’t want in the first place.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?

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