(This is a true account originally dated Sunday, October 17, 2004)
For a week since I’ve been in the Kansas City area I’ve been wanting to go back to this steakhouse in Independence that me and my parents ate at a few weeks ago, because it was REALLY good (the best I’ve found anywhere in the country in fact). So today, after I got done doing my laundry, I stopped in for lunch because it’s a little cheaper than when you go for dinner.
Well normally I don’t use steak sauce, but since this place is pretty well-renowned in the Kansas City area and has their own sauce I figured I would try some.
So I go to shake the bottle up…
You can probably figure out what happened. I should have checked, but it looked full so I figured it was a new bottle and didn’t really think anything of it. Most of it went on the side of the booth. But it also went all over the flannel shirt I was wearing (mostly on the back, don’t ask me how), and some too on my face and in my hair.
I went and told my server what had happened and went off to the bathroom to clean myself up.
When I got back a bunch of them were there wiping up the mess. Everyone was very apologetic, even though I kept saying I was the one who should have known better by my age than to shake up a bottle without checking first to make sure that the lid was screwed on tight.
When I got done eating the waiter asked me if I wanted some dessert, said it was on the house. So I had a very rich & delicious $5.00 piece of chocolate fudge cake for free. Then, while I’m waiting on that, the manager comes out and lays a business card on the table with a $20 bill tucked under it and says that she wants to pay for my “cleaning”. I’m thinking, “It was just a stupid flannel shirt,” but I humbly thanked her and graciously accepted the offering.
So I ended up paying less than half what the meal should have been including leaving the kid almost a 30% tip, and all it cost me was some dignity I never really had to begin with and a shower when I got back to the hotel.
Fine steak dinner at an upscale restaurant including a pint of local stout, dessert, and a damn fine tip: $20
Taking your flannel shirt back to the laundrymat: $1.75
Making out like a bandit because you’re a dumbass: Priceless
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