Beloved Burger Amy and I were finishing up our last few tables one evening. A customer of mine complained that her hamburger was overcooked, and it was indeed. I had another one made for her, but by that time it was late, and she just wanted it boxed up so she could take it home. Whoopsie though, she left it on the table.
Amy and I contemplated the intact burger and figured it must be good for something. We glanced around the room. This place had a cheesy nautical decor, with stuff all over the walls and ceilings. In the middle of the main dining room was a large pole, made to be part of a fake inside porch thing. Amy, struck by a sudden idea, stood on a table and placed the burger on top of the pole, about ten feet up in the air. It was fully visible in the dining room, but we gauged that no one would notice it because of all the junky decorations.
No one did--for an entire month. Too bad it wasn't hot and humid summer. We monitored the beloved burger every shift, and every sighting of it gave us joy. I began to notice a sour smell each time I passed it, and couldn't tell if it was my imagination or not. The burger finally came down when our blowhard of a manager was seated at a guest's table schmoozing and the guest happened to notice it. The manager made another server bring it down, and the report was that it was ..."very hard."