Last week I went with a friend to TGI Friday’s. Our intention was to sit on the balcony overlooking the Parkway, but it wasn’t open due to a light drizzle. Nevertheless, the food would still be hot and the drinks cold, so we got a table inside. As my friend and I discussed the food and drink options, she let me know there’s a special every Monday: $3 mojitos. I couldn’t find the special on the Drink menu, but I was sold, obviously.

So, when the waitress approached our table to take our order, I decided to inquire, “Do you guys do $3 mojitos on Mondays?”

“We do, but that special’s only available at the bar,” she replied.

I looked around and saw no bar in sight. “Okay. Where’s the bar?”

“It’s upstairs.”

“Okay, well can I order from you and you can order from the bar since I can’t get upstairs?”

“I can’t. I’m not allowed to ring anything up at the bar. The bartender has to do it.”

“I’ll give you my card and you can just let the bartender ring it up…”

It must’ve been obvious I was losing my patience because then she said, “If you want, you can talk to my manager. I just know I can’t do it.”

“Yeah, can you send him over here?”

I was done with her like she was done with me. She wasn’t thinking for herself. I do not believe it was Friday’s intention to exclude me from ordering their specials, but clearly no one thought this through. Then, the waitress’ unwillingness to think outside of the box was the icing on the cake. Twenty minutes into being at Friday’s, I was just annoyed that I was debating company policy rather than enjoying my time with my friend.

So, finally, when he made his way to our table, I said, “Hey, how are you? Can you sit down for a minute?” He was a big guy, maybe 6’3, and rather than speak up to him, I wanted him to level with me to make sure he could understand what I was about to say.

“I’m not supposed to, but I will.” He responded.

“Okay, thanks.” I wasn’t sure if the waitress briefed her manager on the issue before he approached our table, but I got right to the point. “I understand you have bar specials. The bar is all the way upstairs. There’s no elevator to the bar floor, right?”

“That’s right,” he said.

“So, people with disabilities cannot order your bar specials?” Now, I know there are many people with disabilities who could walk right up the steps and order a drink from the bar, but I chose to speak in broader terms to make it easier for him to understand. “How is that fair?” Albeit not intentional, the policy was inadvertently discriminatory. I continued, “All of the services this business offers should be available to all customers. I don’t get it.”

What could he say, except what he actually said, “No, you’re right.” He tried to explain, “We have that policy in place to drum up bar sales, but you make a good point. I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Okay, thanks. I appreciate it.” Then, as he walked away, I tried to disable the limits, “First one’s on the house?”

He declined, but I didn’t care. We both laughed. After all was said and done, I enjoyed my food and my mojitos. Then, of course, I got an Uber home!