(An elderly woman marches into her supermarket holding a brisket. She makes a beeline for the meat counter and plunks her tray down.)
WOMAN: Does this look like A-grade brisket? Does it?
BUTCHER: Brisket? How much?
WOMAN: This brisket. I ordered A-grade brisket and this is tough. It’s way too tough to be A-grade.
BUTCHER: No English. See manager. No English. Just cut brisket for gringos.
(The woman finds the meat manager at the front of the store.)
WOMAN: Last week, I bought three pounds of “A” brisket. I cooked it and it came out gray and tough. That sounds more like “B” to me.
MANAGER: I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for you. You cooked the brisket and it didn’t turn out great. It’s unfortunate.
WOMAN: Do you mean to insinuate that I botched this brisket? I think that illegal behind the counter did when he gave me the B-grade cut.
MANAGER: Oh no, it’s not a problem with your cooking, it’s just that I can’t accept a gray brisket for a return.
WOMAN: So you see it, too. It’s a gray, tough brisket. Not the A-cut. Do you think, that with my recipe, a nice cut of beef would turn out like this? Frankly, it’s an insult to my honor.
MANAGER (irritated): Well, how’d you cook it? Because my mom always used to simmer it with gravy, trim the fat, and then use the fat to make the gravy.
WOMAN (appalled): Amateur. You leave the fat in the sauce, it’s what softens up the meat. Everyone knows that.
MANAGER (sarcastically): If it does such a good job softening the meat then, why does your brisket look like this?
WOMAN (angered): Don’t get fresh with me. I’ve been coming to this butcher for years now, and I know for a fact the old management would never have made such a debacle with their brisket. What you’re doing is unprofessional.
MANAGER (defeated): Fine, I can give you half off your next purchase, but that’s all-
WOMAN (with attitude): It’s un-pro-fessional. Wait until the girls in my bridge group hear about this.
MANAGER (manipulated): Fine. You can have three pounds of brisket on the house. Will that shut you up?
WOMAN: That’ll do. And I want the gravy, too. And have him wash his hands. He looked dingy.
MANAGER (exhausted): I’ll make sure he’s sanitary. I’ll bring you your order in fifteen minutes.
(Manager leaves.)
WOMAN (calling after him): Make sure it’s the “A” cut!
The Lighter Side of the Moon 