These places are not getting a good tip. Whether it is bad service, gross food, or Grandma’s “special” recipes, sometimes eating a meal just doesn’t go the way you want it to. These 50 Redditors shared their maddening, horrifying, and hilarious stories of dinners that ended up being a complete disaster.
Back in the 80s when there were a lot of Nouvelle Cuisine restaurants opening in my city, we booked into a relatively new place that had good reviews. This was a work event with about 15 people going. To make things easier we pre-ordered our food from the menu, so there should have been plenty of time to prepare the food.
We arrived at 7 PM and were seated by the friendly maître’d and ordered drinks. These came quite promptly and were consumed, then we ordered more. At 8.30 PM there was no sign of the food, we asked the waiter what was going on, he said the kitchen was unusually busy. Except the restaurant wasn't full. So, we came up with a plan. When it hit 9 PM and there was still no food, someone called Pizza Hut, who delivered the food to the restaurant.
We ate it, paid for our drinks, and left. To this day I have no idea what the kitchen was doing.
I was catching a flight to Iceland with my family. We stopped to grab some food at Durgin-Park in Logan Airport, not because we thought it would be good, but because we thought it would be fast. It's an airport restaurant, right? 30 minutes after we sat down, our drink order was taken. My glass had someone else's lip gloss on it.
20 minutes later, our food order was taken. We were already cutting it close at this point, so we asked them to bring the check right away. Another 30 to 40 minutes later, our flight is boarding, and we still have no food. By this point, we call over the manager, who says, "Sorry, we would have given it to you for free, but you already paid."
We got the food right about at the final boarding call. It was cold and congealed, so we ended up throwing it out. To be fair, our server was trying her hardest, but that was the worst-run restaurant I had ever seen. Each server was assigned to like, 15 or more tables, and they can't have had more than one cook back there judging by the food.
My grandma had signature dishes, which meant it was all she made, ever. "Swiss steak" consisted of the cheapest cut of meat, cooked until hard and gray, and then she'd dump a can of mushrooms on top and burn those until they turned into a congealed topping. Ramen noodles were usually cooked just to the point of liquidity.
If she was feeling fancy she'd dump in a can of tuna and mix that all together with the seasoning packets. "Fruit salad" was orange or lime Jell-O mixed with canned fruit. The topping would consist of mayonnaise and cream cheese spread over the top. She also served reheated McDonald’s French Fries and used expired condiments and seasonings.
A friend invited me and a couple of other friends to dinner when I was in high school. His mom served homemade chicken soup, which was fine. There was chocolate cake for dessert. What she did when she served it will haunt me until the day that I die. Instead of putting11 it on separate plates, she went around to each of our places and sliced off a piece into each of our soup bowls, each of which still had some broth.
Chocolate cake flavored with chicken broth is not a flavor I really want to repeat.
I was eight years old, and my friend's dad was a chef at some fancy restaurant. He put something on the table that smelled like feet, and I was convinced that he was a cannibal trying to bring others into his fold. But here's the thing... I usually really liked his food so not to insult him, I ate the entire thing. Moments later, the father sits down, brings the food to his mouth, and says "I think the eggs must've gone bad."
There was one time my family went out to eat at TGI Fridays. My father orders fish and chips, and the table across from us orders chicken fingers and fries. Their food comes out first and the guy bites into his chicken. It was actually fish. The chicken and fish strips looked similar. So, he complains to the waiter, who apologizes and takes the plate away, bringing back his chicken strips.
Not long after that, they bring out our entire table of food. My dad starts eating a fish strip—only to make a chilling discovery. One of them clearly had a bite missing. It was from the guy who was mistakenly served it across from us. That. Was. So. Gross. Ever since then I'm always leery of not eating all the bread at the table, drinking some of a fresh drink, or generally messing up something I barely touched just so it doesn't get taken back and served to someone else.
My mom, younger brother, and I were on a road trip and stopped to eat at a small restaurant in the middle of nowhere. The food was a little on the expensive side, and there wasn't much of it, but it was good, and I was hungry. My mother, on the other hand, went totally nuts. She ordered the cheapest thing available—the salad bar—and then spent the whole meal complaining about the exorbitant prices and the quality of the food.
She berated our poor waitress for a good five minutes, while I tried in vain to get her to calm down and my brother sat in embarrassed silence. When we left, she paid for her food and my brother's and loudly announced that she would never be eating there again and that she would not be leaving a tip. I apologized to the waitress, paid for my food, and left a tip of 20% of our entire order.
My mother then ranted at me for tipping her, even though she was just doing her job and had no control over the prices. Never have I been so ashamed of my own mother.
When I was 10 or something my family went to eat at a Charlie Brown's. My dad loved that restaurant when he was a teen, so we went. I wanted a steak sandwich with cheese. They first brought me a steak with cheese fries. Next, they brought me a steak with cheese on it, but no bread. So, I ask them for bread, and they say "Oh. I'll just take it back for you." I thought the ordeal was over—but I was so wrong.
They bring it back and it's a grilled cheese sandwich with steak fries. They finally get it right the last time. And all this time my brother never got any ketchup for his French fries. We never ate there again.
I was two weeks into my first job and just getting to know my co-workers. I had a meeting at 1:00 to finally meet the owner so I was wearing my best shirt and tie. A couple of the guys from the office took me out to lunch at a nearby Mexican restaurant. We sat at a booth and just as we were paying our tab, a waitress serving a table next to us lost her balance and dropped a carafe of sangria.
It hit the floor perfectly angled at me and like a cannon, the glass shot its contents from my waist to my face. White shirt, red sangria, smelled like I had been drinking a LOT. I had to go into the owner’s office with all the guys as backups to make sure he believed I wasn't coming to work drunk.
13-year-old me was eating dinner at my first girlfriend's house and we were having tacos. I love tacos and was fairly comfortable with her family since we'd been dating for a few weeks, so I dug right in. Halfway through my second taco, I noticed my girlfriend had barely picked at hers. I asked her what was going on. What she said next made my blood run cold. In the saddest way possible she murmurs, "This was my cow."
As the conversation continued, I learned that the delicious taco beef was from a cow that she had raised, brought to shows, and generally loved since it was an infant. As if chewing on my girlfriend’s pet as she was on the verge of tears wasn't awkward enough however, her dad immediately tells her to grow up and accept what was inevitable.
He gives her the redneck, farmer version of the circle of life speech. And he also tells me to keep eating, as to not encourage her. So, I'm stuck between my girlfriend, and a man who has been very calm so far about me kissing his daughter. Needless to say, I sided with her father and had a third taco. 13-year-old moron I was, I believed I tried some consolation such as: "Well you obviously raised it well," and "She was treated humanely, right?"
I was a little kid, and just old enough to get permission to ride my bike to the large chain sub sandwich shop by myself. I order my favorite sandwich, feeling all cool handing over my own money. I come home and take a big bite out of my sandwich at the table. Instantly, I recoil in horror as my stomach and soul seize up.
I start gaggling and run to the trash, spitting out a large clump of short and curly hair. After I take apart the sandwich, I find a layer of hair in it. It was like someone kept a bag of shaved hair and poured it on a little kid's sandwich. The person whose hair was in my sandwich had some nasty dry brittle hair on their head.
My mom didn't even freak out, I think she got angry at me for making noise. If I had a responsible parent, they would have driven up to that store and screamed their head off
I went on a date years ago and the guy assured me I definitely hadn't been to the restaurant he was taking me to. It was expensive. And yes, I had been before. While we were waiting to be seated, he told me "I couldn't talk like that in this type of restaurant" after I said a curse word. When we sat down to dinner, he asked the waiter to take the bread away so I wouldn't ruin my appetite.
The guy then ordered a meal for us to split. As we pulled up to my house afterward, I let out an extremely loud burp, said "That was freaking great! I ain't never been to no steakhouse before!" That probably ensured he would never call me again.
I went to meet my cousin's boyfriend with my family. We sat down at a bar in Minnesota where the boyfriend proceeded to dress down the waitresses because they wouldn't serve us food. We were there at nine, the kitchen had just closed, and the waitress, while apologizing profusely, offered the only thing they had—peanuts.
He tossed them on the ground and laughed at her as she picked them up. My parents and I were aghast, and my cousin just had this horrifically embarrassed look on her face. They broke up soon after.
I had a guy at Bertucci's, an Italian restaurant, come over to my table and ask if he could have my dinner because his was apparently really bad. I said no, and he got a bit aggressive until management came and tossed him out. They said he had been there drinking and complaining for some time but had been civil about it until then.
Apparently, he had done this sort of thing before, so they were wary of him to begin with. They apologized, but no meal comp or anything...I can't believe they even let him in in the first place.
My date and I went to a Mexican restaurant and ordered nachos. The guy said he'd never had a jalapeño. I thought this was odd because this was in Texas and they’re everywhere. I asked him if he liked spicy food and he said no, so I told him he might want to pick them off the nachos before he ate them. He picked every jalapeño off the plate of nachos…and popped them into his mouth.
I could tell he was in pain, and I asked him if he was okay. He said he was. I excused myself to go to the washroom. When I got back, my water, his water, my iced tea, and his iced tea were all empty. He was too macho to admit the peppers were hot and he did not realize drinking water/tea only makes it worse. We did not go out again.
When I was about 11, my family and I went to one of my mom’s relative’s houses for the first and last time. That lady was crazy; she wanted to host this whole “fancy dinner party” which consisted of half a bag of chips as the appetizer, undercooked ham, and this abomination she had to audacity to call baked macaroni and cheese. But that’s not the worst part.
She also didn’t start cooking until after we got there. She told us to come over at six and started cooking at seven. From what I remember, she used Kraft mac and cheese powder mix, but she used different noodles. She made too many noodles, so she added in slices of American cheese, then put crushed and whole graham crackers on top of it.
She baked it for juuust the right amount of time where half of the cheese wasn’t melted. I honestly almost cried at the dinner table, even her husband was like “What the heck did you make?” which made the experience like a hundred times more awkward.
My roomie wanted to cook for us to celebrate us all getting our first apartment together. He made cinnamon-covered chicken breast. We tried our best but couldn't handle it. He put cinnamon in again when he made mac and cheese. When we admitted we didn't care for it he insisted it was because we were used to eating TV dinners and had never experienced gourmet cooking before.
Admittedly, we hadn't, but if that's gourmet cooking, I'm happy to be ignorant.
My family and I go on vacation to New Hampshire every year. One year, we went to a restaurant called The Homestead. It was pretty nice, but I don't really remember the food though. All we can remember was this kid trying to get into the bathroom. He couldn't have been more than six. He couldn't get in, and finally, he couldn't contain himself anymore.
He projectile vomited all over the place. The walls, the floor, everywhere. It was just a continuous stream of puke. One of the waitresses even sat at our table and pretended to eat with us so she wouldn't have to clean the mess up. Now all we can think of when we see that place is the walls and the floor being coated in puke.
My boyfriend at the time and I went to a high-end Italian restaurant once. When we asked to be seated, we went past two or three empty tables in a room that had people in it. We got seated in a back room where there were zero people and spent the next hour and a half dealing with slow, incompetent service. We were a bit concerned as to why we were shunned to this dark back room with terrible service.
It was the first time in my life I ever had to consider that I was being treated poorly because the person I was with was black.
The first Thanksgiving I spent with my ex-wife's family was both terrible and scary. I grew up in the restaurant business, so everyone in my family can cook, and I took that for granted. First, the turkey was not seasoned or marinated and full of box stuffing. They were taking it out of the oven when I mentioned that it was clearly not cooked yet.
It had only been in the oven for maybe three hours, the skin was still pale, and the temperature gauge was still down. I was told that those gauges never work, so there was no point in using that as a guide, and they did not own a meat thermometer for me to prove my point. They cut the first piece to reveal a soft pink core of raw turkey.
Instead of putting it back in the oven, or even cutting up strips to pan cook, they decided to microwave each portion. They did not offer to microwave the stuffing. I refused to have any, claiming I didn’t like stuffing. I had one small bite of turkey and made it disappear when no one was looking. The sides were ok for the most part, no seasoning or flair, but I filled up in it.
The rolls were cool and raw in the middle, so no rolls for me. Finally, it was time for dessert. They made pumpkin pie. Looking at it, I was already questioning the texture, but as I am a cook and not a baker, I figured I could just be over-critical from the dinner fiasco. I took my first bite and nearly spit it back out onto my plate.
The whipped cream was the only thing that saved me. I asked what recipe they used for the pie. Apparently, it was a silly question, as they just used a premade crust and added a can of pumpkin....no condensed milk, no sugar. Nothing but the canned pumpkin and the crust. Every year afterward we either hosted dinner for her parents, or we visited my family.
I was in a man's house in Afghanistan, and as is tradition, he made us tea. The tea wasn't great, it was really just warm, dirt-flavored water as far as I could tell. But to be polite, I consumed my cup’s worth. As was expected of me. Next, he gave us some rice. Now, these guys are poor, but it's rude to turn down food.
What you do is this: take a little bit. An appetizer-sized amount. Eat it relatively slowly and thank them profusely. Easy enough. Well, unfortunately, in this particular instance, the gentleman was lacking in certain utensils, dinnerware, and OSHA standards. The rice was served to us on these slabs of shale this guy used as plates and had an unholy amount of gravel mixed in.
Not to exaggerate, but the pieces of stone in the rice were dancing up to pea-sized. This dude starts munching, so we all follow suit, trying to minimize chewing and maximize swallowing. Again, we are this rocky rice with our fingers since he had no utensils for us. His teeth were pretty jacked up, so I can only assume he eats rocks regularly.
Regardless, he was a super cool dude, and I hope we were nothing short of gentlemanly in our acceptance of his hospitality.
I don’t know what it’s called or if this is even a real meal, but the host cooked cabbage and carrots until they were soggy, added mayo, sour cream, and some meat. It was apparently supposed to go on top of noodles, but the host forgot to cook the pasta, and even though I said I could wait a few minutes for the pasta, the meal was served up as-is without noodles.
So, I put a few scoops of the soggy mayo meat cabbage off to the side of my plate, leaving room for the rest of dinner, but there wasn’t anything else. No bread, no salad, nothing... Just this sad pile of paleness hanging out alone to one side of my plate. I felt pretty stupid with my five bites worth of the stuff when the host and family had a huge mound of it taking up their whole plate.
My dad was pretty terrible to my mom when I was growing up, but for the sake of us kids, Mum used to invite him to stay with us when he had access visits here rather than us flying over there. One year, he brought his new girlfriend along. She, being a relatively lovely woman, decided to cook dinner for us to thank Mum for her hospitality.
She serves up a strange meat casserole full of bones. Mum says, "Oh, this looks nice." Girlfriend says, "Oh, I hope you don't mind, I used the bag of meat in the freezer." Mum pauses, kicks me under the table, and shakes her head fiercely at me. We don't eat the casserole, claiming not to be hungry. Mum watches intently as Dad eats the entire lot, including my serving.
Later, she told me the disturbing truth about what had been served that night. The bag of meat was actually dog food. She relished the opportunity to watch Dad eat dog food, whilst sparing me from the same fate.
More than ten years ago, I was dating this girl... She was super cute, fun to be around, intelligent, and laughed at all my jokes, whether they were funny or not. She asked me over to her apartment one night because she wanted to cook me supper. I had already cooked for her a few times, so she made a nice spread, most of which I have completely forgotten.
It was all completely overshadowed by the most disgusting bowl of soup I had ever encountered. It was, by her description, "Garlic Soup" but I swear to God I was debating on whether she believed I was a vampire, and if claiming such would get me away from this noxious bowl of garbage. As much as I liked this girl, I couldn't find it in me to finish.
She tried hers and made a face that let me know I was in the clear. She figured out what she had done, and I got off the hook for not eating what she had made. I married her, we have three kids, and one of the very few rules I have is she's forbidden from making that soup ever again.
I went to Red Lobster with my family for my uncle's birthday. My uncle has a notoriously short temper. We’re sitting at a table in the middle of the room, and I noticed two college-aged boys sitting at a table directly behind my uncle, struggling to open a bottle of ketchup. One of them starts shaking it vigorously and suddenly the top pops off.
The released ketchup arcs beautifully through the air... And lands all over my uncle's back, head, and shoulders. My uncle completely LOSES IT. He stands up and starts looking around with rage in his eyes, scanning the entire room. Somehow, the boys had managed to hide the ketchup bottle and were staring in paralyzed fear down at their dinners.
Meanwhile, my uncle is yelling: "WHO. DID. THIS?! Who is it? I will follow the ketchup trail and END WHOEVER I FIND!" Eventually, the waitstaff managed to placate him with napkins and a free dessert. The boys asked for the check and slipped out.
I was eating at a Wendy's in Manila. There were odd shrieking noises emanating from the ceiling. We heard a lot of ruffled movement and suddenly, the perforated ceiling board broke. Down came a pair of very angry cats clawing at each other. One of the cats fell at the table where I was eating, spilling my drink all over me. The other clawed my friend before jumping down.
I was out with my boyfriend at Black Angus. The waiter asks us: “Are you brothers?" And while we both have brown hair and eyes, we don't look related at all. I just laugh and say no. But he asks again later. And again. Four total times. Why my no wasn't good enough, or why he thought we were lying I don't know. But I’d had had enough.
The last time, I yelled "No! We are not brothers! That would make sleeping together really awkward!" The waiter turned beet red and left. We suddenly had a new waiter for the rest of the meal. My boyfriend was understandably mortified. We still make sure we're not in that waiter’s section when we go to Black Angus. Him for residual embarrassment and me because I don't want a bizarre interrogation with my steak.
When my parents were in college, my father took my mom to the fanciest restaurant he could afford while they were both broke. They had a wonderful time, very romantic, and he got out of the booth to go down on one knee and propose…At which point a waiter who was walking backward with two trays of drinks while chatting with his friend tripped over him.
He spilled both trays of drinks on the two of them. In the middle of his romantic proposal. The manager came out, saw what happened, clocked out of work, and went home. No comped meal. No cleaned clothes. No apology from either of the waiters.
I had just moved back to my hometown after being gone several years for university and reconnected with my friend that I've always had a thing for. Confessions are made and we arrange a date. Anyhow, he wants to go to this steak house that's pretty good. Awesome, right? No. Turns out he's now a vegetarian and tells me they have the best veggie burgers at this STEAK house!
Now I’m all for eating vegetarian, but a vegetarian choosing a steak house? Come on, man. Then it got worse. He goes on to attack our waitress with some childish fit saying: "It better not even touch other meat, or I'll complain to your manager!" I'm embarrassed. So, when this poor waitress feebly asks what I want for dinner, I look my date in the eye and say: "Ribeye. And do it so rare it hits the table mooing."
I ate every bite of that bloody steak while he scowled at me the whole time. It made me so sick the next day too. Worth it? Absolutely.
When I was a freshman in college, two friends and I were eating, and some other college girls were seated at the next table. One of my friends was kinda checking out one of them. About 10 minutes, we were in some discussion about something, and I tend to be quite animated with my hands when talking. I smacked my plastic glass of coke quite hard apparently and it managed to fly over to the other table where the girls were sitting and spill over the front of two of them. I was totally mortified.
I went out to eat with a few friends, and we just got our entrees when some little kid jumps over the booth from his side onto our table, kicks the plates and glasses over, then runs to the next table. The kid made it about two more booths when someone pushed him off the table. Everyone at our table was covered in food, wine, and beer.
The mother of this little child comes over, says, "Sorry, he's special," grabs him, and goes back to their booth. The waiter comes over to ask us if we are okay and then proceeds to hand us our check. We started complaining and the waiter has the nerve to defend the kid's actions. I go talk to the manager, who looks at me and the mess and asks what happened.
I explain it to him, and he proceeds to move us to another area and get our meals rushed back out. He then asked the demon-child's party to leave. We got comped and I got a call the next day from corporate about the clothes cleaning. They sent us 4 gift cards for $50 and apologized profusely. Last I heard from that manager was the lady filed a complaint against the restaurant for letting kids run free.
I took a girl out to a very expensive restaurant and spent extra to get a table on the patio that allows you to dine over a busy city street below. Everything was perfect, and we started hitting it off really well and enjoying ourselves. A few minutes after we order our drinks, a crazy sidewalk preacher with a megaphone walked right by where we were sitting and started screaming at people passing by about how they needed to find God. We could barely hear our waiter. Atmosphere: ruined.
I used to get served some type of "macaroni soup" my babysitter used to make. It was honestly a nightmare. My brother and I would get it served about once a month, we would both be puking and crying about it at the table, and she wouldn't let us leave until we finished it. It honestly felt like she was persecuting us. She was usually a good cook as well, but this was like taking normal terrible Kraft Dinner already made and then dumping extra water on top and having it all curdle.
When my husband and I were dating, we went to the aquarium restaurant at the mall. Living in a state fairly far from the ocean or any clean rivers, I've always been skeptical about fish. My husband, on the other hand, dove right into his plate of mahi-mahi with no second thoughts. I was becoming more and more upset with the evening as I don't like seafood and I am terrified of eels.
The big as heck aquarium in the middle of the restaurant had a nine-foot-long, electric green eel that kept staring at me. After an overpriced dinner and being terrified by the local fauna, we went to go see King Kong at the movie theater where I worked. Halfway through the film, my date runs to the bathroom and apparently becomes violently ill all over the bathroom.
He returns and tells me I should tell someone about the mess in the bathroom. I tell him that I'd rather not tell my coworkers that my date had just screwed up their nights and made him go do it. Turns out, he had scombrotoxin poisoning from spoiled fish.
I ordered some pancakes with my dad at our local diner. But instead of giving him that butter that they give you in those little cups, they ended up giving him mayonnaise. He spread it all over the top pancake before noticing. He obviously asked for some new ones. When he got his new batch, he happily put actual butter all over the top one and then moved to butter up pancake number two. Well, his nightmare wasn’t over yet.
What does he find? A cold pancake with mayo on it still! So, he again asked for a new batch of pancakes. Later, a fresh warm stack comes out to him. He butters them up, drowns them in sweet syrup, and takes a bite. In the middle of enjoying his mouthful, he stops...and then pulls a piece of plastic right out of his mouth!
My husband’s aunt is a fantastic woman. She is incredibly nice and loves my husband like a second son. Except, her food sucks. The last time we ate there, she made roast pork with applesauce on top. The pork had been cooked for hours but it wasn’t falling apart tender, it was hard and super tough. It also had no flavor to it.
She opened a jar of applesauce that she warmed up in the microwave to top it with. The combo was incredibly gross. Half warmed super sugary applesauce on top of super-tough tasteless pork.
I went to Thanksgiving several years ago at the in-laws. My wife's aunt is super wannabe Martha Stewart and always spouting new recipes and ideas like she's the queen of cooking. Frankly, she is really bad at it. Anyhow, she says she'll take care of the turkey. Sure, why not, right? How can you mess up a whole turkey?
Well, she bought one of those new electric turkey roasters. You throw the turkey in, close the lid, and let it roast. It's time for dinner, she opens the roaster, and... The turkey is maybe half done. Apparently, the roaster tripped the circuit breaker it was on maybe an hour or two into cooking, nobody checked said turkey to see the roaster was now off, and voila! Pink turkey.
She has her husband carve the danged thing anyhow and try to serve it. I was the guy in the room who said, "No, this is not safe to eat. Nobody, and I mean, nobody eats this. It has to be finished.” And my wife and I took everyone's plates, dumped all the carved and practically neon-pink turkey into one of those aluminum roasting pans, and blasted it on broil for a bit until it was done. It still sucked, but at least it wasn't lethal.
I had gone out with a guy a few times and we were getting along pretty well. He texted me one night while I was out for a ladies' night basically begging me to pick him up so we could hang out. I had the feeling he was inebriated but figured—What the heck, we usually have a good time. I picked him up and he was completely blitzed.
I guess this is possibly my fault, but I took us to a little bar within walking distance of my place, so that I could get on the same level as him. It was Cinco De Mayo so I ordered up some Tecates. My date’s reaction was so disgusting, it was unforgettable. This guy takes one sip of his, then for the next ten minutes, proceeds to SPIT into his glass of water.
I could tell it was from that feeling you get right before you throw up when all the saliva rushes into your mouth, and he was just sitting at the table spitting into this water. The spit was turning into little bubbles and collecting near the sides of the glass. Anyway, I got ridiculously grossed out, and that was pretty much the end of that relationship.
My friend went out to dinner with his girlfriend last year and went to a really fancy restaurant. You know, the ones with dimmed lights and long candelabras with lit candles. The waiter served them wine, and he reached for his cup. He did it a little too fast and knocked over the candelabra. The thing fell over and set fire to the tablecloth.
The waiter came soon after that, and he was probably a guy not trained in handling fire extinguishers. He squeezed the trigger, and a mass of foam enveloped the table, including my friend and his girlfriend. Needless to say, the dinner was ruined. No one was injured though.
When I was a teenager, a small group of us went to a nice upscale casual place for dinner. Our waitress seated us coldly and then ignored us. When the newer tables around us got breadsticks, we got none. We flagged her down and asked for some, but she told us they were out. We asked for cappuccinos, but she brusquely said the machine was broken and walked away.
Every time I had been there previously, the server had taken a couple of dollars off of my entree because I ordered it without meat. but she refused. I was fine with paying what the menu stated, as not eating meat was my choice, it was just that it had always been done previously, and not at my request. It was obvious that she wanted to spend her time and resources on what she thought would be better tipping tables.
She probably thought a bunch of teens were just taking up precious space in her section. Well, there was something that she didn’t know. We all worked together in a different restaurant, two of us were servers ourselves. We always tipped VERY well, but not that night, and we complained to the manager before we left.
I went to brunch at a fairly nice restaurant with some friends one afternoon. Everything was going swimmingly until my turn to order rolled around. For some unfathomable reason, I tried to take a sip of my large coke in the middle of ordering an omelet. My impeccable timing and poor coordination resulted in my pouring the entire drink down my face and shirt, while still trying to order through a mouthful of ice and soda.
After an amused "I'm sorry?" from the server, I had to repeat my order, now utterly drenched in soda. Needless to say, I felt pretty silly.
I was passing through rural Iowa on my way to service a cell site and stopped at a diner for breakfast. Nature called, and I went and did the deed in the bathroom, proceeded to eat a good meal, and left. Drove to the site, climbed the cell tower, and got it fixed just in time for dinner. Diving back through I stopped at the same diner.
But when I go in, the waitress yells "OH HECK NO" and the manager comes out and says, "YOU’D BETTER GET OUT OF HERE!" Turns out I had somehow clogged the pipes and they ended up having to shut down the water treatment system for the whole village to fix whatever was damaged by the clog. I apologized, but they had none of it and informed me I was banned for life.
That's how I got banned from State Center, Iowa for life for taking a dump so big it shut down their water treatment plant.
I was once at a restaurant where I noticed a mid-20s couple that was on a date. I assumed it was a first or near-first date in their relationship because they were dressed sort of nice for a restaurant that was pretty casual. Anyways, the girl got up to go to the bathroom. While she was gone, their pizza came, and it was set up on a little stand thing on the table.
The guy was trying to adjust it or something, and he knocked the entire pizza onto the floor. The girl came back, but I’m not really sure what happened after that. Figured he'd be pretty mortified.
One time when I was like six, my family and I were eating brunch at a local diner in downtown Kansas City called "The Corner Café." We were really close with the owner. It was a great restaurant and everyone in KC loved it. One time we were eating brunch there, and all a sudden I hear the sound of what I could only describe as a squish and scream.
It sounded like a ketchup packet bursting. I immediately turned around to see a huge homeless woman who was missing a few teeth and didn't have the best hygiene. She was out of her mind, and her hand was brown and covered in poop. I looked at the wall across from her and she had thrown a pile of her own poop at a group of people eating, missing them barely.
She wasn't done though, she kept throwing poop for about ten seconds until the people who worked there could grab her and get her to stop. She was arrested and is no longer allowed back inside that cafe. The reason why this was such a disaster was that I was throwing up for like 30 minutes after that. I had just eaten a huge breakfast. There was poop everywhere and they had to shut the restaurant for a day to clean and disinfect.
I dated a hot but very stupid girl when I was a senior in high school. Anyway, we had a double date one weekend with one of my best friends and his girlfriend. We get to the restaurant, she gets veal ravioli, I get steak, and all is well. Once she gets it and takes a bite, she says, "Oh my god, is this fish, because veal rhymes with eel, and I hate fish. I'm not eating this."
On top of that, she started complaining to the waiter about how she doesn't like fish and they should label their menus. Meanwhile, I am trying to disappear into my seat while my friend and his girlfriend cheer her on. They immediately knew what was going on and couldn't resist the opportunity. Long story short, we left very soon afterward and never went back.
Fortunately, we also broke up about a week later. I don't care how hot a girl is, I will never, ever, underestimate the power of stupidity.
I went out to eat one night in downtown Raleigh. My parents and grandparents had already been seated, ready to enjoy a nice dinner. The restaurant realized they had made a mistake and needed a table for a reservation who had just arrived. Two waiters picked up the entire table where my family was sitting and carried it away for the newly arrived patrons. Needless to say, the restaurant lost our business.
My mom decided to surprise my dad by coming to his work at the end of the day and taking him to a fancy steakhouse. She had brought an old suit of his that she found so that he would have something nice to wear, but he hadn't worn it in a long time and had gained a lot of weight since then. Regardless, he changed and they went to the restaurant.
After they ate, my dad’s pants felt too tight, and he discreetly unbuttoned them just to be a bit more comfortable. If he’d known what was about to happen, he never would’ve taken that chance. Suddenly, someone at the restaurant started choking and my dad, being an EMT at the time, decided to get up and help. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about his unbuttoned pants, and they fell down to the floor as he stood!
He saw that someone else was helping the choking man and realized it would probably be best to just sit down.
I was asked out to dinner once with a guy I met in a university course; he seemed nice, offered to pay, it was the whole nine yards. I hadn't made any friends yet and I saw this as a good opportunity to meet people. Knowing I had no car, he asked me to a restaurant I'd never heard of across the city. It took me about an hour and a half to get there at the time we agreed on.
He didn’t show up until around 45 minutes later. He then was upset that I didn't get a table under his reservation as it would "look bad on his credit." He ordered a ton of food, pretty much all the most expensive stuff on the menu, and immediately started talking about getting to sleep with me. Really explicitly, too. He kept bringing the subject up even though I changed it.
The second I let him know I wasn't interested, he completely changed. He ate as much food as he could fit in him, and I'm pretty sure halfway through, he vomited so he could eat more. After he'd eaten about two-thirds of the food and I'd lost my appetite after only a bit, he said he'd enjoyed my company and boxed up the food.
I went to the bathroom while he paid, only to be told when I came out of the bathroom that he'd ditched me with the bill and taken both himself and all the remaining food home. Worst $120 experience of my life and luckily for him, I never saw him again.
I went to Fuddruckers with my family, and we had just sat down when my little sister yelled: "It's a freaking rat!" That was bad enough—but then I looked down and immediately wanted to scream. There was a HUGE rat that was waddling from the back of the restaurant toward the kitchen. People were yelling and jumping on chairs and tables. The manager came out to see what was going on.
His reaction was almost as bad as my feeling of disgust. The first thing he announced was that they were not doing any refunds to anyone who had taken so much as a bite out of the food. One of the patrons yelled, "Did you see how big that rat was!?!" And the manager said: "Of course it was big, he's eating at Fuddruckers." My parents asked for the bill and then we left and have never gone back.
I was at dinner with my band section after a concert, so we were all out in fancy tuxes. Our waitress was walking up with our milkshakes, but she tripped and spilled 6 milkshakes on my chest, lap, phone, my open wallet, and in my shoes. But that’s not all. A glass hit the table, broke, and cut my hand. She started freaking out and kept apologizing, on the verge of tears.
She kept bringing more napkins and towels, trying to help more. After I was somewhat dried, she came back with her manager. They were both still apologizing and told us they would cover the bill. As we were leaving, she stopped me and apologized again, but then said, "I'd like to make up for this ruined dinner with another one," and handed me her number. All in all, ruined dinner, but a date with a cute waitress.
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