Zuppa?

My shoulders sagged as I see the young couple and their demon spawn settling into table 24. Do I dare expect anything other than ground Cheerios and Mac'n'cheese cemented to table tops and salt shakers?
With a heavy heart I grab the necessary silverware and napkins to properly welcome the latest additions to my hell.
"Weclome to ******'s, my name is Michael."
Dead silence. I'm invisible, or so it would seem.
"Well then, anyone for a drink?"
"Sorry, how are you?" They responded. Insincere, but a response nonetheless. Shocking.
"If you really want to know, my soul is burdened with the misery and heartache that saddles every service industry employee when you ignore them. It makes me feel less than human."
There, I've said it. Now they'll freak out and have me fired. Any second now. What's going on here? The father is in stunned silence, but the woman is unphased. Wait...wait...I think she's going to say something.
"What are your soups today?"
My mistake. I thought today might be different.
"Broccoli cheese, chicken noodle, southwestern vegetable, chicken tortilla, and chili."