Fascism and Food: Take It Easy, Brother

Today I met my friend Brock for lunch at a place that shall remain nameless, and as I came through the door and saw him standing in line he looked disturbed.”Look,” he said, “there’s a fight going on there.”I turned and saw a man with a baby on his back and a wife next to him getting yelled at by a red-faced manager.”What happened?” I asked.”Well,” said Brock, “you’re not supposed to get a table until you order your food, and this guy sat down because he had the baby and the manager came over and yelled at him. And the guy said: ‘I’m sorry, but I have this baby on my back.’ And the manager was a real dick about it.”I looked back up and I heard the manager saying: “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t get your ass out of here, you shmuck.”Now call me crazy, but this is not great “managing” on any level. All the customers standing in line were crazy freaked out. The man with the baby and his wife were surprisingly calm and they left in disbelief. The manager stormed off to the back.Policies are important, I understand. And places with turnover as great as this place must make rules to keep everyone satisfied. But the place wasn’t so crowded today. And the way the manager handled himself was just wrong. I give him a big thumbs down.