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Nobody ever called food service glamorous: long hours, demanding customers, barely decent pay, and that’s barely scratching the surface of it. Not even working at The Reconnaissance could make dealing with all the demands of the job completely enjoyable. Slightly more bearable, perhaps, if only for the larger tips that came with catering to more affluent patrons, but customers will be customers no matter where you go.
Saturday nights at The Reconnaissance were perhaps the worst of days to work, second only to holidays (the latter won by the skin of its teeth because of the relative infrequency and the double pay). The sheer volume of customers, most of them feeling entitled to being treated as though they were the only diners in the entire restaurant, pushed everyone on the crew to their limits, and this Saturday night was no different.
Eren Jaeger weaved his way expertly through a sea of tables, arms laden with an array of mouthwatering dishes as he reminded himself that there was only one more semester left before the completion of his undergraduate degree. Briefly, longingly, and not for the first time, he thought of his parents' anxious offer to take on a higher cut of his tuition fees.
"Here you are, Madams. One Country Classic Platter, and—"
Eren bit down on his tongue as a small child barreled through the space behind him and nearly sent him sprawling across the table. Thank Sina he managed to serve the remaining dishes before the child could return for another go.
"Enjoy your meal," he bid the customers with a charming smile and headed back for the next round of orders. A slim hand rose into the air and waved at him, calling his attention towards the reception area.
Historia smiled at him as he approached where she was stationed at the front of the house. Eren studied the careful pinch to the corners of her lips and the way her eyes did not quite crinkle at the corners. "Gentlemen, this is Eren, your main server for the night. He will lead you to the booth you have reserved."
"And it better have been set up exactly how I specified it," the blond customer said, his tone bordering on demanding. "I'm friends with the owner, so I'll make sure to inform him if it isn't."
And Eren realized why Historia was more reserved than usual. This was one of those customers – the entire crew knew that Erwin Smith's friends were all nutcases to some degree (cases in point: Dr. Hanji who would discuss pet projects at length until politely urged into a seat, and Mike Zacharias who sniffed each server that approached his table), but never the type to use their relationship with him as a ticket for free food, let alone a threat.
Eren's eyes slid briefly over to his dark-haired companion, a shorter man whose face remained impassive. Still, Eren could swear that the faintest of furrows marred his forehead – perhaps he was reinforcing his date's implicit threat? No, it felt more like he was calling out the blond man's bullshit...
Ah, but the blond man was beginning to tap his foot. Best to deal with these customers quickly and efficiently so they couldn't complain.
"Please follow me," Eren put on his best smile and lead the way to the back of the restaurant where the more private booths were located. Thankfully, there was only one free booth with a reserved marker on the table, and everything seemed to be in order.
"I remember specifying that the candle be red," the blond customer frowned, pausing in the pulling out of his chair after his dinner partner waved away his attempt to help him sit.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Sir, but all the candles we have are silver and blue," Eren tipped his head in apology. He said nothing as the blond customer let out a deep sigh and focused on retrieving the marker and distributing the menus.
"Shall I return when you have decided on your orders?"
"No," the blond man shook his head. "We'll order now."
Eren straightened up. "Alright, what will you have this evening?"
The dark-haired man went first, having given the menu only a cursory glance. "I'll have the spinach and artichoke formaggio for a starter, and the seafood oreganato for the main course."
"Excellent choice," Eren nodded—he probably snuck more of the creamy dip than he had the right to, himself—and turned to the other man. "And you, Sir?"
In contrast, the blond man hemmed and hawed over his own menu, taking so long that Eren started to feel uncomfortable standing there. All of his polite recommendations were shut down with a brisk head shake, and eventually, Eren stayed quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jean shooting him glances, evidently wondering why he was taking so long at one particular table when there was an entire restaurant full of patrons that the other servers could definitely use help with.
"I want beef risotto for a starter, and the pagliacci tenderloin meal for the main course," the blond man finally said with a decisive snap of the menu. All well and good, except...
"Sir, I'm afraid we don't serve beef risotto," Eren ventured carefully.
"What?!" the blond man exclaimed with an outraged flap of his hand. "Every self-respecting place should serve that! How hard could it be? You have all of the ingredients, don't you?"
"I'm afraid it's just not one of the chefs' specialties," Eren murmured in what he hoped was a placating tone. "Might I suggest the antipasto wine set instead?"
"Imagine, a chef not knowing how to prepare risotto!" the blond man scoffed to his date, who definitely had that crease to his brow now. Eren tried not to stare too obviously, lest the other man be offended as well (Rose knew one customer per table like that was one too many), but to be fair, the dark-haired man was definitely not bad to look at, even with that faint scowl on his face.
After some more hemming and hawing, the blond man finally decided on the antipasto wine set, and it took quite a bit of Eren's self-control to keep himself from reacting as he promised to return with their orders.
"What took you so long?" Connie hissed as Eren relayed the orders. "Marco had to cover for your section!"
Eren winced, knowing Marco was only newly recovered from his accident. It had been an unofficial agreement between the rest of them to keep Marco's workload as light as they could while he eased back into the swing of things. "Sorry, I got a 'friend of the owner.'"
Petra's mouth pulled into a scowl as she appeared at the window, having caught Eren's explanation. "Where do people get off on being such poseurs?"
A cut off yelp and someone shouting "Auruo!" from the depths of the kitchen had her rolling her eyes. "Speak of the devil," and she was off again.
"You better get back out there, too," Connie slapped Eren's shoulder lightly, sending him back into the fray.
Eren wasn't sure if he was asking for too much when he hoped that by the time he returned to the booth with the starters, the blond customer had magically become much more agreeable after conversing with his date (he privately thought he would be, if he were in the man's shoes). Alas, Maria was not smiling on him that night, as the blond man only rolled his eyes and muttered something about the long wait when the antipasto wine set was laid out in front of him.
"And your spinach and artichoke formaggio, Sir," Eren smiled as he set down the other dish in front of the dark-haired man, who seemed much more appreciative than his partner had been by the way his lips lifted just the slightest at the corners. (Okay, so maybe Eren was being a little more observant than was strictly professional, but customer service, right?)
"I'll be back with your main course," Eren promised. He had just turned to head back to his main section when he heard a snapping sound from behind him.
"Waiter!" the blond man snapped his fingers testily, jabbing a finger at his half-empty glass of water. "You didn't offer a refill."
Eren stared at the customer for a moment, and then took another to breathe out of his nose. Slowly, calmly, just like Mikasa had coached him.
"Of course, Sir, my apologies. I'll return with a pitcher," he nodded, and hurried off before his face could contort into a scowl in front of them.
"Honestly, Levi, can you believe the service here?" he heard the blond man scoffing to his companion. Eren couldn't even bring himself to be cheered up by finding out the dark-haired man's name.
Servicing that particular booth wore Eren down throughout the night, from the unnecessary trips back and forth in order to retrieve a single item at a time, to complaints about the meals being cold despite having been served fresh out of the kitchen. To make matters worse, the blond man kept muttering disparaging remarks about him to his companion when he thought Eren wasn't listening, and sometimes even when he was clearly within earshot. It wasn't the first time customers had said such things about him and nor would it be the last, but to be criticized so unfairly to the handsome dark-haired man on top of having to fill all the ridiculous demands was really grating on him.
"Just a bit more, yeah?" Sasha said encouragingly through a mouthful of garlic bread and patted his back, trying her best not to get crumbs all over his uniform.
"A bit more," Eren echoed, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed for the rest of the weekend.
After what felt like forever, the blond man finally called for the bill. Eren delivered it as quickly as he could – surely his service throughout the evening warranted at least a good tip.
"Are you new here?" the blond man asked, almost conversationally, as he ran through the check.
"No, Sir. I've actually worked here for a couple of years now."
The man frowned. "Then you have no excuse for your terrible service."
Eren felt his jaw fall open. "Pardon me, Sir?"
"You heard me," the customer replied, waving his hand over the remnants of their dessert. "All the dishes were served too cold, I asked for white wine and you served this pink sham, and you were missing for half the time I was calling on you! I know you probably dropped out so this was one of the few jobs you could get into, but how can you possibly expect to try for anything better when you can't even do this one job right? What would the owner say?"
It felt like the floor had fallen open where Eren stood as the man continued to tear into him. Most of the customer's comments were utterly baseless, but Eren was helpless to say anything to defend himself, and the man wouldn't let him get even an apology in edgewise. The customers from the surrounding booths and tables were starting to look over at them, and he could feel the flush start to creep in from his neck and ears, suffusing his face with a crimson red.
"That's enough."
The crisp words cut through the blond man's tirade, and all focus shifted to Levi, who had been silent the entire time. For all superficial appearances, his face remained stoic, but there was a cold anger in his eyes, and Eren knew it was not directed at him.
"Throughout this entire dinner, I have sat through your shitty trash talk of this restaurant and the servers between your pathetic attempts at boosting your own ego. I used to work as a waiter, and I wouldn't have had as much patience dealing with self-entitled windbags like you as this man did. I might've even spat into your food for all the shit you put him through. So thanks for the free meal, but you can go fuck yourself, because I can't fucking stand people that think they're better than the ones serving them."
Levi then turned to Eren, although his expression was markedly softer than the steely gaze he had subjected his dinner partner to. "You weren't bad. It's not your fault this asshole doesn't know white Zinfandel is supposed to be pink."
Eren clamped down on the bewildered laugh that threatened to bubble out of his throat.
The blond man's mouth opened and closed for a few moments, rendered speechless by the brutal shutdown his date had given him. Finally, he threw a handful of bills on the check and stalked out of the building.
The moment the doors shut behind him, the surrounding booths and tables burst into applause. Everyone was so amused by the outcome that none of the families even thought of complaining about Levi's language.
"T-thank you, Sir," Eren stuttered, finally finding his voice.
"No problem. Like I said, I know the shit you have to put up with, and I doubt Erwin would let any customer bitch on his staff like that," Levi shrugged, settling back into his chair.
"You know Mr. Smith?" Eren's head snapped up.
"Worked for that bastard here, actually, when this was just starting up." Levi made a face as though he couldn't believe he'd known Erwin for that long.
"So you knew about..." Eren trailed off. So that had been a smile when the blond man claimed he was friends with the owner, after all.
"Yep," Levi snorted. "Should have cut him off right then and there. Should have spoken up sooner, really."
Eren squirmed a little at the slightly softer tone Levi's voice had taken on towards the end. "It's no problem, Sir, really. I— I'm glad you spoke up."
The corner of Levi's lips quirked up as a dull flush crept over Eren's cheeks, no longer out of humiliation but a different sort of embarrassment. Clearing his throat, Eren gathered up the bill and the payment.
"I'll just process this," he excused himself and headed over to the cashier, where Ymir was waiting with a knowing look.
"Don't," Eren warned, handing the payment over.
"I haven't even said anything," Ymir said, mock-offended, but the shit-eating grin she wore said more than words ever could.
"Here you are," Eren said, putting down the receipt with the change in front of Levi. The man picked up the receipt, scanning the details before folding it carefully and putting it into his wallet. The change, however, was left untouched, and a crisp folded bill pulled from the wallet that was worth a good amount more than the usual tip was set on top of it.
"That douchebag didn't even plan on leaving you a tip, can you believe it?" Levi muttered, the both of them grinning at the jibe to the blond man.
"Sir, thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the evening despite... what happened." Eren winced inwardly at his choice of words. It was during moments like these that he wished he had hung around Armin more often in hopes of absorbing some of his vocabulary through osmosis.
"It was fine," Levi nodded, rising from his seat. "See you again, Eren."
And with that, the dark-haired man swept out of the restaurant, leaving Eren stunned in the wake of being addressed by name.
(Although perhaps not as dumbfounded as he was upon unfolding the bill and finding a business card with a handwritten invitation for coffee on the back tucked neatly inside.)