This is a repost of a short story I banged out to make a point about what I saw as a flaw within the Steemit ecosystem.
With the recent lynch mob downvoting of the trusted, respected and appreciated Steemit contributor @Haejin, I thought the story had extra special resonance today - so as it was barely seen at the time, I thought a repost would not go amiss.
All comments valued!
(Read "The old lady" as Ebenezer Scrooge or the warped whale BernieSanders himself who I dedicate this post to!)
Merry Christmas!
"Dennadi is a genius of the pizza world. He's set up pizza houses far and wide and each is a great success. People happily travel great distances to taste his specialities.
In one, a young man grins at his waitress. He's happy. She has served him with a big smile, is efficient and the pizza was simply perfect - just how he likes it. Even though the waitress is obviously busy and the other customers are buying bigger meals - in just a few seconds, she makes him feel special. He plans to tip her generously. He is not alone. Other people - whether they are young, old, male or female - feel the same way. She works hard and the people delighted by her charm, reward her efforts in the simplest of way - with a tip.
The pizza chain is unique, not only for Pizza Dennadi’s family recipe pizza’s, but for his progressive ideas. Dennadi has recently launched a new idea across his chain of eateries. Instead of keeping each of his staff’s tips confidential, Dennadi decided to display the tips for all to see. He has always been proud of his workforce and believes that by displaying the tips, the tips themselves become an open public record of his customer’s satisfaction. Something for all to see.
So the waitress, just as in all times recently, duly drops her tips into the cash register - a little digital display on the wall next to her name, flickers as it updates itself with her new tip total. The manager nods his approval - as always she's slowly but surely wracking up a leading amount, which as head waitress sets a bar for the other servers to match. The pizza house is buzzing with positive energy. The manager looks at the new code of conduct list freshly painted on the wall and sighs with admiration as he yet again realises Pizza Dennadi’s cutting edge entrepreneurship.
Then, an old lady walks in fox furs walks in. The light atmosphere of fun chatter is immediately dulled as if someone has dimmed the lights. The old lady scowls around the room like a tired old male dog looking for a quiet place to rest amongst playful puppies. The customers lower their voices and speak in hushed tones, fearful of attracting her attention.
The old lady glowers with delight as the waitress approaches. The waitress does her best - gives her a great seat and serves her with a big fresh smile - but this is a situation she can’t win since the old lady, as per her game plan, finds fault after fault. The issue is deeper than the food, or the service. The lady simply resents the waitress - she resents happy people.
Eventually the lady in furs finishes her meal and strides over to the digital displays of the tally of tips to have a closer look. She registers the amount the waitress has earnt and growls with displeasure. She then spots the list that are the 10 codes of conduct of Pizza Dennadi’s customer service charter. She reads down the list and her face lights up as her finger alights on rule number 9. She delves into her handbag and peels an equal amount of money to the waitress’s tips from a fat wad of notes. She slams the wad down on the counter in front of the manager.
“I’m invoking code of conduct rule number 9!”
The manager stammers, “But that's not even meant to be used - Pizza Dennadi, only intended that to be used for incredibly bad service, theft or terrible manners. Its not meant to be used like this!”
The lady hisses through her clenched teeth, “The rules are the rules. Besides, where is Senor Pizza Dennadi? Are you going to disobey him in his absence?”
The manager is dumbfounded.
“I presume you respect my money? I presume you respect my seniority and my distaste at the service I received? I presume you agree that I can use the money as I wish?”
The restaurant falls silent in disbelief.
“I presume that you will obey your employers very clear code of conduct - and enact code number 9 without any further delay!”
People silently jostle for a better view as the manger slowly, but dutifully, bundles up the waitress’s tips together with the ladies money of equal value. He places the notes on a pizza tray - which he slowly and hesitantly slides into the depths of the pizza oven. The money curls and blackens. It ignites and vanishes in a puff of smoke.
The manager is crestfallen. He can barely believe he has done what he has done. But he is duty bound to follow the rules. The rules that created his job. The rules that created the company.
The waitress is pale. One moment she was having yet another great day and then, within one moment in time, she has lost the total rewards of a hard day’s work. All gone.
The faces of the customers who had just left, and those of customers just arriving - are pressed to the pizza house’s window as they stare in disbelief.
One of the customers, who had barely afforded the meal and who had tipped the waitress from her meagre wages, suddenly bangs on the window and shouts, “That's theft! That's my money - money that I gave her!”
A man calls out, “Yes, that’s right. You burnt my money. You burnt my gift!”
The customers cries become a mantra, as all they indignantly shout in unison, “That’s theft! That's my money, that I gave her!”
The waitress turns to the manager.
“They are right, it is theft!”
The manger blusters, “But the rules are the rules! Our employer is a genius! He invented these pizzas. He made this restaurant! He wrote the code of conduct! We must obey his wishes!”
The manager looks for support amongst his staff and then amongst his customers, but as his pleading eyes are met with a blank look of dismay. The lady in furs is beaming ear to ear.
The manager reading the rules again adds hopefully, “Look, it explains it here, the money isn't money until it’s given to waitress. It’s just numbers on a digital display on a wall. The amounts are just like votes, not real money. Its only money once we place it in her hand!”
The customers shake their heads, some lower their eyes and whilst others chuckle under their breath. They’re not accepting this theory for a split second.
The young man steps forward and under a low voice, trying not to embarrass the manager, whispers, “Yes, Pizza Dennadi might be a genius - this place rocks and his Pizzas are the best - but just maybe, he made a mistake.”
The manager follows the young man’s eyes to the gloating old lady who is looking so triumphant that it appears she might not be able to hold her bladder. They both reel from her loathing.
“Maybe” the young man whispers, “being a nice man himself, Pizza Dennadi just underestimated the vindictive, ignorant nature of some people? Maybe something that lurks in all of us on a bad day?”
The young man calls to the old lady, “Mam, may I ask you, if this system was no operational here, what would you have done if you didn't like the service of the waitress?”
The old ladies eyes widen, “Well young man, I’d have not tipped her a penny!”
“So,” The young man replies, “Would she have known of your disproval by the lack of your tip?”
“Of course!”
“So, why did you use this code number 9 of Pizza Dennadi’s, to liquidate her whole days tips?”
The old ladies lips quiver.
“And why did you waste your money to do it too?”
The answer isn't immediately on the old ladies tongue. The restaurant is silent. All eyes are on her. The lady indignant with patience of the watching eyes splutters, “I did it because I could!”
A collective sigh of dismay fills the room - the air pregnant with the raw futility of such negative angst.
Expectant eyes turn to the manager, expecting some sanity. He reads their collective expressions clearly, without a word needing to be spoken.
The mangers pleads for reason, “The rules aren’t just rules - they are painted on the wall.”
The customer’s eyes linger on him patiently.
“I can’t just change them! We’d have to paint over them! We’d have to paint the wall next to them as well, in fact, I’d have to hire someone to do the painting!”
Sighs bounce around the room.
The manager’s face lights up, “Besides, we don’t have a budget for paint!”
One of the other waitress’s steps forward and says, “Use my tips towards the hiring of the painters, otherwise,” she looks to meet the faces of the listening customers, “if this business fails, I might not have a job next week.”
The cook, silent until now, says “I agree, add in half of my day’s wages.”
“Same for me” adds the dish cleaner.
The customers all throw in small notes and soon the manager has a pile of money in front of him.
“OK,” he sighs subservient to the very clear majority opinion, “I’ll have the rules painted out within a few days.”
The old lady, whose cheeks are are turning a deep beetroot, grunts and hisses, “Well if these are the new rules, you won’t see me eating in here again!” She sticks her nose up in the air, pirouettes on the spot and exits the restaurant slamming the door behind her. The pizzahouse ignites in applause, cheers and laughter.
The waitress walks up the painted list, the codes of conduct and stares at code number 9.
“Meanwhile, before these get repainted, lets do a little adjustment!”
The cook presents her a fork, “Scratch the words away with this - gouge them out!”
She hesitates, then grins as the young man offers her a pencil and she replies to the cook, “Gouging out the old code is a bit over the top I think,” and proceeds to neatly cross out the offending words. Above the crossed out words, she carefully adds in neat lettering, “All tips, big or small, accepted with love and a smile!” She frowns and then adds, “PS if you don't like the service either tell us why, or feel free not to tip and either way, we’ll get the message.”
Amongst the customers, one of the more senior men squints and rubs his glasses, “What did she just do?”
The old man with poor eye sight’s wife explains “Well, as Pizza Dennadi’s code of conduct rule number 9, was so open to abuse, it needed to be changed.”
“Well we agree with that,” the old man replaces, his now clean glasses and squints at the list, “but how did she just do it?”
The young man, grinning at the beaming waitress, answers, “The cook suggested changing code 9 with a hard fork, but the waitress realised it just needed a quick soft re-write.”
Within time the story of the day when code number 9, designed with good heart, accidentally gave power to the dark negative emotions of ignorance that hide within all of us, was forgotten. The pizza’s were known as the best and the happiness of the workers was second to none and Dannadi’s pizza houses grew to become an international sensation."
As always, appreciate feedback, upvotes and most especially resteems!