"At a restaurant in Chinatown in San Francisco about thirty years ago: Was by myself, reading the newspaper, and didn't notice the razor blade in my Kung Pao chicken. Luckily, it had a small cardboard wrapper around the sharp end, so even though I took a forkful of the entree into my mouth, I noticed something was wrong when I started chewing. I spit it out and shuddered at what might have happened. When I told the waiter, he didn't think it was a big deal. I walked out..." (Source).
"I took my wife, who absolutely loves buffalo wings, to Hooters, who - aside from their shtick - are supposed to know wings. So, we order wings, and the first thing we see when they're placed on the table is that there are still feathers attached to the chicken legs and wings. Somehow, the chicken wasn't fully plucked before it went through the breading/cooking/saucing process, and nobody noticed the feathers poking out everywhere. We asked the waitress if we could get some replacements, because we weren't going to be eating food that hadn't been properly cleaned before it was cooked and served to us. Her response? 'That's pretty normal; I don't know that I can get you an order that doesn't have feathers.' Done. Never been back, never need to" (Source).
"My wife and I had ordered fish and chips to go at a less than famous fast-food outlet in New England. The server seemed belligerent to me, so I chided her a bit about her service. I can't recall what I said; but I do recall what she did in response.
She took my food and put it in an open container and moved to the rear of the outlet; then, using her own 'rear,' she picked her butt and made sure that what was on her finger contaminated my food.
Instead of reporting her, I simply dumped the food in the trash. I led my wife away, so that we could find a cleaner place to get take out. I was both stunned and amused. For some reason, it struck me so odd and so incredibly, amazingly horrible that it didn't registered I could have probable sued her and her employer" (Source).
"One Tuesday night around 9:30pm I went to one of my favourite restaurants with a date. There was a line of people at the valet waiting for their cars. Entering, the maître d' informed us that they were closing because exterminators were about to start a routine pest control.
I asked (a little annoyed since it didn't made sense and I'd spent the past half hour talking wonders about the place we were going to dine), 'Why don't you do it after closing time?'
He just stared at me and said: 'It is kind of an emergency'" (Source).
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