My Sister Said, ‘We Don’t Feed Extras,’ As She Gave My Son Water While Her Kids Ate Lobster…
Identifying the Boss
Ashley had stopped at a nearby table listening. I gestured for her to come over. “Ashley, could you please tell my family who I am?”
Ashley looked nervous but professional. “This is Amanda Foster. She’s the owner of Meridian Restaurant Group. She owns this restaurant and two others. She’s my boss.”
“Thank you, Ashley.”
I looked back at Claire. “So, when you said, ‘We don’t feed extras,’ and slid a water glass to my son, your nephew, at this dinner you arranged at my restaurant, you were telling my employee not to feed my child in my own establishment.”
Claire’s face had gone from white to red. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know because you never asked. You assumed I was still struggling, still living paycheck to paycheck.”
“You assumed you could bring your family to an expensive restaurant, order $60 lobster platters for your daughters, a $75 bottle of wine, appetizers for the table, and classify my 14-year-old son as an extra who doesn’t deserve food.”
“Amanda, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“You told him to know his place. That some people are main characters and some are extras. You had a glass of water slid to him like he was a stray dog.”
Mom found her voice. “Amanda, there’s no need to make a scene.”
*”Actually, there is, because you backed her up. You told your grandson he should know his place at a dinner celebrating his cousins. You agreed that he’s background, an extra not worthy of a meal.”
A Meal Fit for a Son
I turned to Michael. “Chef, my son would like to order now. Tyler, what would you like?”
Tyler looked up at me, his eyes wet. “The lobster platter.”
“The lobster platter for my son, please. And bring out the special reserve side dishes: the truffle mac and cheese, the grilled asparagus, and the chocolate lava cake for dessert.”
“Also, I’d like you to prepare one of your off-menu specials for him. Your choice. Whatever you think a 14-year-old who just got called an extra would enjoy.”
Michael smiled slightly. “I have just the thing. I’ll take care of it personally.”
After he left, I sat back down. The nearby tables had definitely heard; people were whispering, looking over.
“Amanda, please,” Claire said quietly.
“This is humiliating.”
“Interesting that you feel humiliated. How do you think Tyler felt watching your daughters eat lobster while drinking tap water, being told he’s just an extra?”
“I apologized.”
“You apologized after finding out I own the restaurant. Would you have apologized if I were still a struggling single mom you thought I was?”
She didn’t answer. Mom cleared her throat. “Amanda, we should discuss this privately.”
“No, Mom. We’re discussing it right here, right now, because you need to understand something.”
Building an Empire
“I’ve spent the last six years building a restaurant business. I started with a food truck, worked 90-hour weeks, learned every aspect of the industry. I bought my first restaurant three years ago. I’ve been successful. Very successful.”
“You never told us,” Claire said.
“Because you never asked. You were too busy assuming I was failing, too busy teaching your daughters that some people matter more than others, too busy making sure Tyler knew he was background.”
Tyler’s elaborate meal started arriving. Michael had prepared a smaller lobster platter, the truffle mac and cheese, asparagus, and what looked like a Wagyu beef slider that wasn’t on the regular menu.
“This looks amazing,” Tyler said quietly.
“Enjoy it,” I told him.
Then I looked at Claire. “The bill for tonight will be interesting. Your table has run up about $400 so far. That bottle of wine alone was $75. The lobster platters are $60 each. Would you like me to comp the meal, or would you prefer to pay for it yourself?”
Claire looked panicked. “I thought… I assumed you’d…”
“You assumed I’d pay because I own the restaurant? The same restaurant where you said ‘we don’t feed extras,’ where you had water slid to my son like he was beneath you?”
“Amanda, please.”
Settling the Bill
I stood up again. “Tyler, grab your food. We’re moving to a different table. Ashley, please prepare a private table for two in the back room, and bring the check for this table.”
Wait, Claire stood up too. “You can’t just leave us with a $400 bill!”
“Watch me. You brought your family to celebrate your daughters. You made it clear who matters and who doesn’t, who’s a main character and who’s an extra.”
“You’ve eaten your celebration meal; now you can pay for it.”
“I don’t have that kind of money right now!”
“Then perhaps you should have been more thoughtful about ordering $60 lobster platters and $75 wine when you planned to classify a child as not worthy of eating. Ashley, the check, please.”
Tyler and I moved to the private dining room in the back, a space I designed specifically for important client dinners. Ashley brought his food plus additional sides I knew he’d enjoy.
“Mom,” Tyler said after we’d settled.
“Why did Aunt Claire call me an extra?”
“Because some people measure worth by money and status. They think some people are important and some are just there. She was wrong.”
“But you own this place. You’re important.”
“I own this place because I worked hard, but that’s not what makes someone important. You’re important because you’re you. Because you’re kind and smart and decent, not because of where you sit at a restaurant table.”
He took a bite of lobster. “This is really good.”
“Good. Eat as much as you want. It’s your restaurant too.”
The Main Character
Through the glass partition, I could see Claire and Mom having a heated discussion. Mom was opening her purse, probably checking her credit cards. The twins looked mortified.
Ashley came to check on us. “They asked me to tell you they’ve left. The bill has been paid. They wanted me to say they’re sorry.”
“Did they say it to you, or am I supposed to pass it along?”
“They said it to me, ma’am. Asked me to convey it.”
“Thank you, Ashley. And I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“If I’m honest, ma’am, it was pretty satisfying to watch you handle it. What they said about your son was awful.”
After Ashley left, Tyler asked. “Are they going to hate you now?”
“Maybe for a while. But Tyler, I need you to understand something. You are never an extra. Not in your own life, not in anyone’s story. You’re the main character in your own story, and anyone who treats you as less than that doesn’t deserve to be in it. Even family. Especially family, because family should know better.”
We finished dinner, all three courses plus dessert. Tyler had never eaten so much in his life.
When we finally left Meridian, it was nearly 10:00. In the car, Tyler was quiet for a while then he said. “Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Did you really buy three restaurants?”
“I did.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“And you named one of them Lucius after your grandmother, my mom’s mother?”
“The one who always said I was special. That’s the one. She would have loved watching you eat that lobster tonight.”
He smiled. “I think she would have liked watching you tell Aunt Claire off even more.”
He was probably right. Some people learn to know their place, and some people learn to own the place.
My son learned the difference tonight at a restaurant table with a lobster platter in a building I own, while his aunt learned that extras sometimes write the checks and sometimes they just cancel.
