There is hope for you after the asylum. My daughter has an EE degree. While in school, she would call me every October and tell me how terrible it was and that she wanted to drop out. I would talk her off the ledge, and she got through.
Now she’s working, making more money than I do in her early twenties, and she loves loves loves her job.
I hear electrons are really flaky. You tell them to show up at a specific place and time, and you just never know. Always getting involved in one entanglement or another.
I told the server that I couldn’t eat it, so she took my plate off the table and slapped the bill down in front of me, charging me for it without offering any alternatives while my lunch mates slowly enjoyed their good burgers and I got to sit there watching, hungry, and sixteen dollars lighter in the wallet. Worse, I was about to catch a plane, so I was fucked on getting any other food.
I got the rolled eyes treatment when I paid and didn’t tip.
I’m not bitter about that experience. Not one bit.
Cool your jets there. I don’t mind that I paid for it.
There was an aggressive, “well fuck you, pay me and get the fuck out then,” demeanor from the server.
I never raised my voice, never asked for a comp. All I did was response, “I can’t eat this,” when she asked how everything was. That was it.
I would’ve paid AGAIN if she’d offered to let me order something else because I was so god damned hungry and knew there would be no food for many hours ahead.
But no. She grabbed that plate, stormed off, and slapped a check in front of me. The end.
Sorry i hurt your service industry feelings.
I NEVER send food back and I NEVER ask for a comp. Never have, never will.
But you want to be shitty to be about it, I’ll pay for the food, and that’s all I’m gonna pay for.
In a similar situation this past summer, I told the server I didn’t care for the food and she immediately asked if I wanted something else. I politely declined and told her to charge me for the food, that it wasn’t her fault, and tipped her somewhere in the 25% neighborhood.
These two incidents are the only two times I can recall not being able to eat what I was served. I have, however, been witness to a number of other people getting pretty vocal about wanting everything for free, including everybody at their table, claiming they didn’t like the food they had consumed in its entirety. On that front, you and I are united, I’m sure.
I got a machaca and egg burrito from Roberto’s in October.
I do not have access to Roberto’s where I live.
The last bite of that magnificent roll of tortilla and meaty eggy deliciousness did indeed bring me a certain level of depression knowing it would be a long, long time before I can have another.
I remember seeing this on pawn stars. They said the purpose was to stop black market flows of US dollars into foreign countries. I think it was particularly prevalent in Korea and Vietnam.
What they didn’t talk about is what you would do with your stack of certificates when your tour was up and it was time to go home.
Edit: They were convertible to local currency when on leave and US dollars when returning home.
I lived in Busan Korea back in the nineties before it was developed and before it was exporting its pop culture. I remember struggling to even get a Coke out of a vending machine. It was really difficult, but since I was young and adventurous, it was also super fun.
By the time I went to Fukuoka a couple times for visa runs, I had that expat sixth sense that allowed me to navigate around with next to no knowledge of the language. I was able to get cabs, take the subway, find my hotel, get food (though I didn’t always know what I was ordering) etc.
I still laugh to this day at my attempts to play pachinko when I stumbled upon such establishment. The people inside were particularly entertained with my nonsense.
I lived in Korea at a time when there were scant few western food options outside of Seoul.
So a Burger King came to town, and we were taking expensive taxis across town to get our hands on a damn hamburger that was roughly twice as expensive as it would be in the states. We went daily, sometimes twice for the first couple weeks.
I was not in the military and was living a good life, but sometimes eating soup and rice at every meal can wear on your soul to the point where you’d murder a hooker turned good on the street in broad daylight for so much as a frozen gas station burrito.
Don’t even get me started on how excited I was to once find a six pack of Dr. Pepper on the black market.
It doesn’t surprise me at all that they’d bring burgers to a war zone.
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