March 26, 2013

The Big Burger Dinner Disaster




























A few weeks ago, before my back failed me, my husband and I went out for dinner. It wasn't a romantic scene, so don't start picturing that; it was simply that we were overdue on our grocery shopping and decided to stop for dinner on our way to the grocery store so that we wouldn't be grocery shopping on an empty stomach. Truth be told, we really shouldn't have been in the restaurant to begin with. We should have done either one of two things: We should have been more responsible and grocery shopped at the appropriate time {before we ran out of food}, or we should have just sucked it up, gone shopping, and avoided all the tempting foods like the adults we are. But we took the more simple and somewhat indulgent way out by going to a major sit-down type restaurant chain for a gourmet burger.

Our simple plan of stopping for a quick dinner went to hell nearly immediately {karma?}. Not only did our dinner take more than half an hour to arrive after placing our order, but when it arrived it came all wrong. My husband didn't get the correct burger that he ordered, and though my burger was correct, my salad was non-existent and in its place was french fries. Though I would have normally accepted this mistake with secret guilty pleasure, I am really making more of an effort to eat vegetables and I actually wanted the salad that I had ordered. So we tried in vain to flag down our waitress, who after setting down our plates, had run back to table of what appeared to be her friends. After two or three minutes of unsuccessful attempts to catch her attention, I decided to start eating my burger before it got cold.

It took ten minutes before we were able to flag down our waitress, and when she finally arrived back at our table my mouth was full of hamburger. I put my burger down and grabbed my napkin in an attempt to tell her my dilemma, but my husband stepped in for me: "Sorry to bother you {obviously sarcastically}," he said "but my wife ordered a salad and she ended up with fries." Before he had even finished the sentence, and while I was still chewing my mouthful and attempting to dab my mouth, our waitress screeched "Oh so sorry about that!" while grabbing my plate right out from under me, half eaten burger and all. It's a good thing that I had managed to swallow while this happened, as my mouth dropped open in shock as she took my whole plate away and disappeared with it.

She returned about five minutes later with my plate, having switched out my french fries for a salad. However, everything on my plate had been rearranged and it was obvious that someone had touched my burger in attempt to make the plate more presentable for her second attempt at getting my order right. Only this time, I was more offended than when the french fries had been on my plate: Someone had touched my half-eaten food {and who knows where their hands have been}! Perhaps I am over-reacting a little bit here, and if that's the case, then please let me know. But my husband is not afraid to tell me when I am over-reacting or being ridiculous {his words}, and his reaction to this entire incident mirrored my own. Not only were were shocked and offended when my burger was unceremoniously ripped out from right in front of me, but we were even more horrified {read: grossed-out} that someone had so blatantly manhandled something that I had already started eating. Ew.

Needless to say, this waitress did not get a great tip. She actually even made matters worse {as if it was possible by now} by making a very off-colour comment while were we paying our bill, at just the exact same moment that I was filling in the tip amount on the credit card bill - any earlier and she may not have gotten any tip at all!

Photo Credit: Ottawa Citizen

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