It is what it is

The kitchen was dark, lanterns were being blown out and the front door locked when the phone rang.

"Thank you for calling _______ how can I help you?" I asked.

"Hey we were calling because our show ran late and we'll be down in a couple of minutes," the caller declared.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're closing down for the night." I replied.

"Well we have a reservation, can't you hold our table for us?" He asked.

I glanced at the computer screen, no reservations existed after 9:00 that night, it was past eleven.

"What was the name of the reservation?" I asked.

"Umm, well, it might have been under Sandeen?"

It sounded more like a question than a statement, I was being lied to.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any reservations, and I'm afraid that at any rate we're closed." I said.

"Well we'll only be ten more minutes," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't have your reservation and we do have to close down for the night," I answered.

"Perhaps you could join us on a different day?" I offered.

"I just don't understand, its only another ten minutes!" He said in an irate tone.

The last of the kitchen guys were about to split, if we stayed open it wouldn't be only ten minutes for them, or for me for that matter.

It would be an hour or more.

"But we have a reservation!" He spat out.

"No, you don't, we don't take reservations for the time that we close," I said.

He started stuttering something else when I interrupted...

"It is what it is, goodnight sir."

Boy I hate it when people tell me that, I hope he does too.