What happens in the video
“You forgot my order again!” In a diner with red booths and a checkerboard floor, a customer in a suit tips a glass across the table toward an older server. A golden dog lies nearby. “I’m bringing it from the kitchen,” the server tells him. “I don’t have all day.” The server asks, “Please don’t throw things.”
A woman carrying a plate arrives. “Why is Henry’s shirt wet?” The customer twice says, “He’s too slow to work here.” She tells him, “The kitchen held this order because you requested a fresh recook.” As the plate is set down beside the menu, he admits, “I did ask for it well done.”
Continuation:
Up close, the steak was exactly what Malcolm had asked for. The cook had even replaced the potatoes so they wouldn’t go cold while the meat finished. Across the aisle Henry was blotting his cuff with a paper napkin. It disintegrated and left little white pills all over the dark fabric of his apron.
Malcolm looked at the clock. He had to leave in six minutes. There was no possible way to eat lunch, get to the station, and catch his train. There hadn’t been when he sent the steak back either.
“Could you box this, please?” he asked the woman. Then he made himself get up and walk over to Henry instead of calling him back to the booth.
“I owe you a clean shirt,” he said.
“I’ve got a clean shirt. What I’d like is for the people at table six to hear you say I remembered your order. They come in here every Thursday. I’d rather they didn’t spend the next ten years reminding me to write things down.”
Malcolm turned around. Table six held two women sharing a slice of pie. Both suddenly became very interested in it.
“Henry remembered my lunch,” he said, loud enough for them to hear. “I asked for it cooked longer and blamed him for the wait. I threw the water. I’m sorry.”
One woman nodded. The other lifted her fork. “Are we allowed to finish listening, or do we have to go back to talking about my gutters?”
Henry laughed first. The sound made it slightly easier for everyone else to breathe.
Malcolm missed the train. He ate his boxed lunch on a bench outside the station while pigeons watched the potatoes with professional interest. The steak was good. What stayed with him was the sight of Henry carefully peeling those dots of paper off his apron before he went back to work.
The following Thursday Malcolm came back well before his train. He asked whether Henry minded if he sat in his section. Henry considered him, then took a menu from under the till.
“Same steak?”
“If there’s time.”
“Tell me what time your train leaves and I’ll tell you what you’re having.”
Malcolm told him. Henry put the menu back. Five minutes later a toasted ham sandwich arrived, cut diagonally, with a pickle and the bill. It was exactly the lunch he had time for. He left the glass where Henry had set it and made the train with four minutes to spare.
