After we were all caught up, my sisters went from panic mode to solution mode in an instant

As told to Libby Silberman

"Excuse me? I think we’re missing some food here.” I rolled down my window and squinted at the man loading my car. “This doesn’t look like enough for 20 couples, does it?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and heaved another warmer filled with pans of hot food into the trunk.
“Sir, can you hold a second?” I hopped out of the driver’s seat and went around to get a look myself. My mother had sent me to pick up the food from the caterer — she was hosting a sheva brachos for one of the grandkids that night.
“Here, I’m opening this warmer. Mr. Siegelheim labels the pans, right?” I scanned the clearly labeled items. “Twenty chicken capons,” I read out. “Seven liters of mushroom barley soup. Where’s the rest? This looks like about half of what we ordered.”
The poor fellow heaved another warmer into my car. “I don’t know, mister. I don’t take orders. This is what the staff prepared for you.”
“Can you please call Mr. Siegelheim for me?” I asked, a note of impatience in my voice.
With another shrug, he complied, putting the phone on speaker.
“Yes, Pedro, what’s going on?”
“Mr. Siegelheim, hi. It’s Yitz Neufeld, actually. I’m here to pick up my mother’s order.”
“Okay, great. Is there a problem?”
“There’s too little food here. We ordered for 20 couples.”
“You mean 20 portions.”
“That can’t be. That’s totally not enough!”
“Reb Yitz, you’re telling me? I’ve known your mother for more than 60 years. I do all your mother’s catering. I know this is a small order, but it’s what she asked for. I double-checked with her! She asked for 20 portions.”
“You positive?” I asked desperately.
“Positive as can be. I have her order right here in front of me.”
“Well then, it is what it is. Can you give me some extra food from the kitchen?”
“We don’t just have ‘extra food’ floating around in the kitchen. We’re done for the day. Again, I’m sorry about this, but there’s not much we can do.”