The Internet is infatuated this afternoon with the news of a pizza delivery driver getting tipped $10 on a $1,500 order. It's not a local story, but we're going to post it anyway because pizza, well, it's been on our mind lately. Really, we ate so much pizza for this week's cover story that we can't get the sausage bits out of our teeth, the stench off our clothes, and the grease out of our fingernail beds. We're not hot right now, guys.
The Reddit user that posted a photo of the 85-pizza receipt told Fox News that the driver had to make two trips to unload all of the pies. Readers online appear to have reached a consensus that the tip was too low, but the estimates for what it should have been are wildly different. As Kansas City's newly appointed pizza experts, we say it should have been much higher.
But the most important part of that weekend is that this all occurs at home. I sit here without a defense of what apparently transpired in a Utah restaurant: a pair of toddlers who sat naked on potty seats in the middle of the dining room. The Consumerist has the story that went viral (courtesy of another diner's Facebook post) after one unfortunate lunch service at the Thanksgiving Point Deli.
A Fat City reader wrote in to complain about the treatment he had recently received at a restaurant on the city's south side. While eating, he had discovered a piece of glass in his food. That was disturbing enough, but the restaurant owner's response was the final insult: "He told me, 'If you get sick, call me and I'll say I'm sorry.' That was it. He just didn't care."
It was a repulsive response. But in over 20 years in the restaurant business, I've got to say that I saw the "glass in my food" scam pulled at least a half-dozen times, so I can sort of understand that some restaurant owners can get jaded. But glasses do break, and shards of glass can linger in a kitchen longer than you think. I'm still wiping up nearly microscopic splinters of glass from corners of my kitchen floor from a vase I dropped three years ago.
"I don't care if the customer put the glass in the food or the kitchen accidently let something slip in," a wise restaurant manager told me once. "You apologize profusely and comp the dinners. That's it. You have to be conscientiousness."
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution has the story of a man who apparently lobbed a molotov cocktail at a Taco Bell drive through window in Georgia after calling to complain that his Chalupa XL didn't have enough meat. This comes on the heels of an incident in Kansas City last month, where Jeremy Combs allegedly returned to a Taco Bell with a shotgun because when he returned home his order didn't have any hot sauce.
The Georgia fire occurred in the early hours in the morning, while the Combs incident was around midnight. Perhaps, it's time we all agree that nothing goods happens during "fourth meal" at Taco Bell.
Need a lot of pep in your step? Tickets for the first-ever Caffeine Crawl, organized by local beverage impresario Lab 5702, go on sale Monday.
The Caffeine Crawl from 10 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Saturday, September 17, is a guided tour that stops in independent Kansas City coffee and tea shops.
"We're trying to fill the gap and break down the wall where a customer might be OK buying specialty coffee, but not know how to talk to a barista," Lab 5702 founder Jason Burton says.
It's one of the last great questions faced by humankind: Do you eat something that has just fallen on the floor if you can get it back to your mouth in five seconds?
The New York Times will tell you that it's the "Zero-Second Rule." That scientific data suggests that once it's on the floor, it's gone because bacteria transfer is immediate. The science is sound, but I'm still not convinced it's enough to end the five-second rule. Thus, here are the five reasons that I'm hanging on to the classic guideline for dropped food.
Listen, all I wanted was a nice quiet dinner. Is that too much to ask?
A friend and I stopped at a neighborhood bar and grill last night -- it wasn't my neighborhood but close enough -- and settled into a comfortable booth, opened the menu, and was suddenly assaulted by an unexpected and grotesque monologue from the peppy-looking suburban housewife and mother in the next booth. It was like one of the old Saturday Night Live sketches featuring Rachel Dratch as "Debbie Downer." But in this case, horribly real!
I had just given up trying to best my falafel sandwich at Zaina earlier this week when a server approached the table and asked if my wife and I were done.
"Yes," I replied.
"Great. We're running out of plates," he said, glancing around the full dining room before clearing the table.
I've worked with all kinds of restaurant hosts and hostesses over the years, including bratty teenagers, college students, actors and actresses, at least one drag queen, and the weird neurotic fashion plate who told everyone that he had both law and medical degrees and was working for minimum wage because, well, it was fun.
Hey, it takes all kinds of people to be attracted to the job of seating people in a restaurant. It looks easy, but it can be very stressful on a weekend night. I know, I've done it myself.
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