Yes, it was a chicken embryo, not duck, but otherwise pretty much the same thing.
“crypto-fascist” giggle Thanks, Fenris that was awesome. Also the grill story. Fire stories, as long as no one gets hurt, are always awesome.
The milkshake story is just begging for a riff on “my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard”.
At Outback
Order prime rib. Rest of the family’s order come and at that time the server says they’re out of prime rib. I order the ribeye steak. 10 minutes later he comes back and informs me they are out of ribeye. I tell the server that that was ridiculous and I wasn’t ordering anything, Server come back about 10 minutes later and tells me that he won’t be charging me for the ribeye (the one I never got because they don’t have it).
OK time for the check. Waiting. Waiting. We finally grab another server and he checks it out. He comes back and he says are server went home early and didn’t tell anyone. We then get a $800 bill. Despite the wife ordering only one salmon dinner, we were charged for 42 of them.
But still not my worst dining experience.
I think I’ve been there. Downtown, near the Penn Avenue viaduct?
I once went to a popular spaghetti place in Lincoln, Nebraska which kept the lights dim in the dining area. I discovered why when a couple of roaches nonchalantly strolled across our table. Note that when the roaches are casually wandering around high traffic areas the place must be seriously infested. We scooped up one, deaded it in a napkin, and handed it (in the napkin) to the hostess on the way out, quipping “You got a bug problem”. Now out of business.
Finally, I know this one isn’t mine and has been going around the internet for a while but it’s my favorite restaurant review ever:
Speaking of Denny’s, don’t ever, ever, ever go into the one you first reach in Santa Cruz, coming in from Highway 17.
We stopped there once, like every famished family who’s been on that slow, hilly road too long, and discovered it’s a total hellhole. The manager at the time was a fat, redfaced asshole of about 30 who apparently had the whole staff terrified for their lives. We were seated and the very young waitress kept whispering, “Sorry!” as she rushed past us, trying to service about fifteen tables. She got yelled at by FatRedBoy every time she came near the kitchen. After about forty minutes, still with nothing but water on the table and two hungry kids (not to mention hungry mom and dad) FRB yelled at her from nearby. I turned and in a very clear voice said something like, “You know, she’s running her ass off here, and I think that if you yell at her one more time I am going to find a way to make you regret it.”
FRB went ballistic. Screaming, raging, literally stomping at me. Three or four tables of people scuttled out, probably without paying. I scooped up my toddler daughter and headed out, probably as close to something leading to cops, handcuffs and headlines as I’ve ever been in my life, and stormed out. The closer on the door was shot, so when I shoved it open, it slammed hard against the (long glass) front of the building and made this tremendous, glassy-toned gunshot sound.
FRB followed me out, volume turned up and pitched about an octave higher, still screaming and raging about what he’d do to me if I broke his restaurant.
We headed back up 17 to Scott’s Valley and had the choice of a little Mom’s place that looked iffy… and another Denny’s. We went into the Denny’s. It was clean and quiet and the staff was bustling, and so I told the waiter what had happened down the road. He sat down across the aisle from us and laughed until he had to dab his eyes. Short version, the store in Santa Cruz was then and had for years been the worst in the chain - #4700 out of 4,700, or something like that. Because of the position, it caught every incoming tourist, so its revenues were sky-high… but no one ever went back a second time.
Anyway, we got good, fast service, some extras for the kids, and I saw the waiter talking to the manager - so maybe something useful went back up the chain.
I have learned to avoid the first-exit stuff in places you have to drive a long ways to reach, though.
Cool story, bro!
Yes there are places that serve food at the counter, but in my experience the meal itself is the same food that they would have served you had you sat at a table.
The way that “counter meal” was used seemed to imply a type of meal, which is why I asked.
I worked in a seafood restaurant (no, not Red Lobster, they know better) in Charleston, SC, and I guess the managers had never heard of that holiday in May called Mother’s Day.
First, they called me in early. Second, we started running out of food FAST. We ran out of steak. We ran out of oysters. We ran out of shrimp. (Remember, this was a seafood restaurant.) We ran out of those tin-foiled wrapped butter pats. By the end of the night we couldn’t write another thing on the 86 board.
The hostesses were telling the people during their waits that we had plenty of food, but when the guests were seated 45-60 minutes later, I had the unenviable task of telling them no, sorry, we’re out of that. That too. Sorry, no more of that either. Yes, I nodded sympathetically, I would be pissed off too.
We ended up closing two hours early because the restaurant ran out of food. I see, surprisingly enough, they’re still in business, but down to two locations instead of three.
Wonder if it’s the one on TripAdvisor rated #214 out of 294 restaurants in Santa Cruz, including this mouth-watering review:
“Wish I could give 0 stars. Took 10 minutes to get a soda and water. Then the glasses had FOOD and other things INSIDE the glasses. Most disgusting thing I have ever seen. Do NOT go here unless you want to get sick.”
No, out near Berkshire Mall. This was some years back; apparently it’s gone now, not surprisingly.
Oh, here are a few that go back to my slightly dissolute youth.
I had stopped in the Burger King in downtown Johnstown, PA (my home town) for my usual Sunday morning hangover cure of a Double Whopper and fries. I’d just settled into a booth when a young guy, about 19 or so, sits down opposite me and, without a word, begins helping himself to my fries. He left, snickering, after some threatening words and gestures on my part. OK, so I should have known better; it’s a Burger King. In Johnstown. What did I expect?
Speaking of Johnstown, I could probably populate this thread solely with stories about the legendary Coney Island Lunch. It was pretty much the only place downtown that was open 24 hours so after the bars closed at 2AM it would tend to fill up with hungry drunks, such as me, and several friends who played in a local band.
Arguments or worse over who was first in line for their famous chili dogs were not uncommon and sometimes actual fisticuffs would break out. For example, one time one of the kitchen staff came flying out into the dining room where he proceeded to hurl crockery at one of the waitresses, in front of a full house. Another time a young couple in an adjacent booth got into a fistfight (on Valentine’s day, no less) and had to be hauled away by a couple of police officers, who were sitting right there, a couple booths away, when the altercation broke out.
Lastly, on one occasion, around 1976 or so, one of my drunk buddies had ordered the meat loaf dinner. At some point, for reasons known only to himself, he decided to use his fork to catapult a quarter-sized fragment of his meal in the general direction of the back of the restaurant. It hit the wall about eight feet up and stuck there. Somehow, no one noticed.
For the next year, anytime we’d go in we’d check to see if the meat loaf projectile was still there. It was. As far as I know, it lasted until July 20, 1977. How do I know the precise date? That was the night of Johnstown’s last major flood, when the water rose high enough to wash it away.
Okay, I laughed.
Not quite the same, but there was a burger shack near where I used to live that did great roadburgers - big sloppy guys, fairly cheap and with good fries. I used to pick up a bag for dinner about once a month.
Now, this place was no award-winner - an old, fairly shopworn glass-front with everything dinged and dented and painted over fifty times. But it was clean and tidy and mostly in good repair.
Which did nothing to explain the four-foot, shell-plastic representation of a soft-serve cone on the back wall, so old and dirty and yellowed and cracked a landfill would have refused it. It remained there through several paint jobs and “remodelings” and I have no idea why.
You should have sprinkled some of that bullshit on their sidewalk.
I had to think a while as my ‘bad expeiences’ amount to a couple of ‘get-seated-and-never-get-service’ incidents, which led to my departure from said restuarant (yeah, Applebee’s in Madison, AL, I’m still not coming back). But for different…
I was in Manila, Phillipines for a conference and our group decided to go eat at the makati Fish Market. Getting there was an adventure in and of itself, as our taxi driver was auditioning for Daytona and managed to knock off a rearview mirror of another cab while trying to get past. After about 5 minutes of arguing between the drivers (no mayhem), we resumed the trip to the restaurant.
Now the restaurant was kinda neat; you first got a small basket and walked around a market-like area with all kinds of fish with individual prices. Once you got everything you wanted in your basket, you ‘checked out’ and went to your table where the waitress asked how you would like your fish cooked. So that was pretty unique.
Now, I am the fussiest eater in the Western Hemisphere and I don’t eat fish. So I asked what else they had and the waitress said ‘chicken’. OK, chicken is good, so I ordered that…
I am still convinced, 30 years later, that the bird they brought me had been the loser during the previous night’s cockfights, because if there was a piece of meat on that sucker I never did find it in the muscle and gristle. I probably got 2-3 bites worth of food off of that bird. Fortunately the sald and bread were plentiful enough to keep me happy.
Everyone else liked their fish, so I can’t call it a bad experience…just out of the ordinary.
shrug It’s one of the few times I’ve ever said anything of the kind. I’m more prone to doing things like calling district managers, etc., but this guy was so out of control it pushed me to the be-stupid point. I had and have daughters about the waitress’s age, for one thing.
I’d tell you the one about the racist drunk, the barstool and the little girl of color, but I can see you’re not interested. 
Buffalo Wild Wings in Brookings, SD. Got one of those ‘anonymous’ surveys on the back of the receipt so I went online and filled it out. I didn’t give them all 5’s (or whatever), never do. Next time I went in the manager confronted me about it.
A friend of mine said they called him about one that he filled out. IIRC, they called him at work.
So fair warning, those ‘anonymous’ surveys aren’t so anonymous.
Nothing earth-shaking, but it was pretty funny at the time. I’m drinking, my friend is not drinking (much) just driving. We stop at a restaurant, grab a booth and order. I ask my friend, “whaddya havin’, beer, wine?” He says no, he doesn’t need anything, he’s driving, etc. Ok so I get up and go to the can, come back and sit in the wrong booth. Guy there’s got a bottle of wine in front of him. I grab the bottle and hold it up and say, “What the fuck’s this? I thought you weren’t drinkin’!” Then I look at the dude, I’ve never seen him before in my life, and my friend is killing himself laughing in the next booth. I’ll never forget the poor guy whose wine I grabbed…he had this totally guilty, caught-in-the-act look on his face.
Local Dunkin Donuts. I order tea, friend orders coffee. Server mixes up cups. I order plain donut, friend orders chocolate covered donut.
Me" I betcha she messes up the donuts.
Friend: That’s a sucker bet.
I get my plain donut, friend gets a chocolate covered crème filled donut. Sends it back for a plain, donut with chocolate frosting.
“Counter meal” is a cover-all term for food served in a pub. Usually there is one thing on the menu, roast + 3 veg or fish & chips - something cheap and easy for the pub cook to knock out.
I’ve done that.
Except, it was a lump of butter, it hit (and stuck on) the ceiling rather than the wall, and it was at a black tie event at an incredibly fancy hotel. It kept us amused at the table for a little while (it was otherwise a really dull award ceremony - the sort of event that can only be survived with copious quantities of wine).
I can’t even blame it on my wild and reckless youth - this was about six months ago. For all I know, the butter’s still there.