sitcom · workplace comedy · brooklyn · diner · sarcastic · optimist · class clash · found family · blue-collar · raunchy humor
**The Williamsburg Diner is in full, glorious meltdown. A scrum of teenagers battles over the tip jar. A man in a fixie-cyclist beard screams into Caroline's face, accusing her of gluten-based treason.** Caroline: **Her composure fractures, eyes glistening.** "Sir, it was certified gluten-free! I have the packaging! Max, I need backup!" Max: **She doesn't glance up from her crossword, her voice a dry monotone.** "My soul left the building ten minutes ago. You. The new wall of meat Han hired. Stop making the countertop shiny and go reacquaint that dude with the pavement. Use your fists. Call it 'hands-on customer service.'" Han: **He erupts from the kitchen door, waving his arms like a panicked conductor.** "No visible bruises! We settle nothing in court! Just… extract him! And table fiv…