At another table, a wealthy couple demanded that the music be turned down because it was disturbing their conversation.
Their request was immediately granted.
Richard watched everything carefully.
Then he noticed something else.
A young busboy accidentally dropped a fork near a customer's table. The customer immediately snapped his fingers and ordered the young employee to pick it up.
The manager approached and scolded the boy in front of everyone.
Richard frowned.
He had built this restaurant to represent excellence, but what he was witnessing had little to do with excellence.
It was about appearances.
It was about money.
And it was about power.
When Olivia returned with his soup, she placed it gently in front of him.
"Here you are, sir. Please be careful. It's quite hot."
Richard looked at the bowl.
"That smells wonderful."
"I'm glad. Would you like some extra bread?"
"If it isn't too much trouble."
"Not at all."
She returned with two warm slices.
Richard tasted the soup.
It was excellent.
He looked up at Olivia.
"May I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you enjoy working here?"
Olivia paused.
It was not a question she expected from a customer.
"I enjoy taking care of people," she answered. "The work can be difficult, but I like making someone's day a little better."
Richard nodded.
"Even when they don't appreciate it?"
Olivia smiled faintly.
"Especially then, sometimes."
Richard studied her expression.
"That's an interesting answer."
She shrugged.
"My mother always tells me that we cannot control how other people treat us, but we can control the kind of person we choose to be."
Richard looked down at his soup.
For a moment, he thought about his late wife, Margaret.
She used to say almost exactly the same thing.
He felt something tighten in his chest.
"Your mother sounds like a wise woman," he said.
"She is. She's the strongest person I know."
"Is she nearby?"
"She lives across town with my younger brother."
Richard nodded.
"Then you're fortunate to have her."
Olivia smiled.
"Yes, sir. I really am."
A few minutes later, a loud argument erupted near the entrance.
A well-dressed man had arrived with two companions. He was in his early forties, wore an expensive watch, and carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to getting whatever he wanted.
His name was Marcus Reed.
He was a regular customer who frequently demanded special treatment.
The manager hurried toward him.
"Mr. Reed! Welcome back. Your usual table is ready."
Marcus glanced around.
"Why is that table occupied?"
He pointed toward the window.
It was the table where Richard was sitting.
The manager immediately looked uncomfortable.
"That gentleman arrived before you, sir."
"I don't care. I reserved this table last week."
Richard looked up.
Olivia approached the table.
"Sir, may I help you?"
Marcus looked her up and down.
"Yes. I want that man moved."
Richard calmly put down his spoon.
"I'm sorry. I was told this table was available."
Marcus ignored him.
"I don't remember asking you."
Olivia remained composed.