So I visited my site the other day, read my Memorial Day weekend post, and realized I forgot to write about the best part (or most interesting) part of my weekend. Therefore, today will be all about that story; all about Denny’s.
So my brother, lady-friend, her sister, and I walk into Denny’s after our not-so-earth shattering club experience at the Down Under at about 3am. The place it packed (I think it was prom weekend at most High Schools), but we still manage to get our seats rather quickly. Our comes over, says her typical introductory stuff (what do you want to drink? Are you ready to order now, or do you need more time? Etc. etc.) and heads off to the kitchen to get our three waters and lonely orange juice. She comes back, waters and orange juice in-hand in a few minutes to take our orders. I get the usual (I think it’s called a Lumber Jack), the lady-friend gets a sandwich with a salad, her sister gets some ice cream thing, and my brother gets something (forget what it is). The waitress once again heads off to the kitchen to place our orders.
About 10 minutes later the waitress comes up with the ice cream dish thing in hand. Naturally I am thinking “are food is here already, that was fast!” Wrong. Wrong! Our food was not here, my lady-friends sister’s food was here. Now my opinion on this is two fold. The first, I can understand why they brought her food, as ice cream melts, so as soon as it’s made, it ‘needs’ to be brought out. However, if the rest of our food was not ready, why did they not just wait and make the ice cream dish once the rest of the food was finished? Oh well, it is not that big of a deal. It is only ice cream.
Well about 15 minutes later, the waitress comes up to the table with my lady-friends sandwich. Again, I am thinking that our food has arrived, and again, I am wrong. Wrong! The food for my brother and me was still nowhere to be seen. And on top of that, my lady-friends salad still had not shown up. I mean seriously, who brings out the sandwich before the salad? I thought it was common knowledge to always bring out the salad first. Again, oh well.
So about 5 (maybe 10) minutes later, the salad arrives at the table. By this time the sandwich is about ¼ finished (yea, she eats slow), and my attitude has gone from good to bad. It has already been over 30 minutes, and still no sign of my food anywhere. Add to that the fact that we keep getting food piece-by-piece, and I am quickly turning into one angry black man. I tell my lady-friend that if she finishes another quarter of the sandwich before I get my food, we are leaving.
Another 10min goes by, and sure enough, the lady-friend finishes another quarter of her sandwich. Her sister’s ice cream (the portion that she did not eat) is completely melted and now looks more like a milk-shake gone bad than a desert. I tell everyone that we are leaving, and that I will pay for the sandwich (and salad which nobody ate because it was ridiculously bitter) and the ice cream thingamajig. Like magic, the waitress walks over, apologizes for the extra long wait, blaming it on the fact that the cooks do not like her very much and yada yada yada. Now, first of all, you are never supposed to tell the customers that the cooks (especially the cooks) do not like you. I mean, am I seriously supposed to be comfortable eating the food made by a person who has a harsh dislike for the person serving it to me? I think not. So with that uncomfortable thought in my mind, along with the fact that I am just angry, I tell the waitress to just bring me the check for the few items on the table. She says OK, and heads to the register.
About this time, the rest of the table is like “are you seriously going to pay for this?” or “I would not pay, the service was horrible.” However, the service for the ice cream thingamajig and the orange juice was not bad, and my lady-friend did heat half of her sandwich (typical of her), so paying for that portion is not a problem for me. Now I know the only tip she would have received would have been something to the extent of “be nice to the cooks”, but the food we had I have no problem paying for.
Well another 5 or so minutes rolls on by before waitress brings me my check. She just sort of hands it to me while in motion to another table, mumbling something on the way. I look at the check, which had a balance of about $30, and just told everyone “OK, lets go.” One of them (I forget who) asks me how much it is, and I simply reply to something of the affect of “I do not know, this is not my check,” which it was not. I know for a fact that a sandwich, some ice cream, and a glass of orange juice do not cost $30. The receipt I had in hand was for someone else’s meal, and to me, that was the last-straw (or draw, not sure what word is supposed to go there). We get up from the table, I simply state “if they cannot bring me my check, then they obviously do not want me to pay.” I laid the receipt on the table face-up, so the waitress could see her error, and we simply walked-out.
Now under most circumstances I refuse to dine-and-dash, as I am a firm believer in the principal that people should be compensated for their work/effort. However, in this case, the service (work) as a whole was lackluster, and the fact that the waitress could not bring me the correct receipt showed that there was absolutely no effort. And since there was not work/effort, there was no compensation. So there you have it, my first dine-and-dash. Well, I guess you could almost say it was not a dine-and-dash, as my brother and I did not even get to dine, we only dashed. Oh well, maybe next time.
In the end, the worst part of that entire experience was the fact that after I left Denny’s I had to go to Jack N’ The Box to get some food. So I basically wasted an hour of my life, for nothing. Well I guess I should not say it was for nothing, as it did give me something to write about so I can entertain you folks, which, we all know is what I love to do. Anyway, that is my weekend’s lost-episode. Hope you enjoyed it. Adios.
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