rshort1202

I am walking up to a restaurant with Mom and Makayla. It is dim or dark outside. I think this place is Italian. We’re greeted by a hostess at a table on a little covered section outside the place. She seems sort of somber and then ends up telling Mom something like ‘sorry about Catholic Charities’. I think she is going to relay to the manager that we’re here. We walk in, passing all the tables, and end up in a large back room. It seems like it’s more for staff. There are a few giant pizzas and large portions of side dishes set out on table clothed tables. Some employees are casually coming and going while we’re in here, so casual that I hear one cuss. I now grab some food. I go back for some mac ‘n’ cheese, the underside of which is badly burnt, a black crisp. I think it still tastes fine. There is a subdued sense of excitement that this is going to be comped because they actually care what happened with Catholic Charities.

I’m in some fairly upscale restaurant with Mom. it sort of looks like the Atlantis buffet. We walk up to a counter. There’s a server, white, probably late 20’s, in all white, a chef’s hat too, I think, what comes up to greet us. Mom says something about a drink - beer or wine?- and I get concerned for a second. She specifies to him “Clausthaler”, and he pours one. There is also dessert - I think for us. The man is putting pieces of cake on separate plates, focusing on an appealing display.

I am in a restaurant with Melissa. The restaurant seems to have some self-service element to it, or at least some food on counters behind glass. After we’ve been seated for a little bit, we get up to get some food. There are a couple 20-something girls working behind the counter; I ask one for some of a salad. They say something about it being really spicy, as if I can’t handle it. I think they may not be giving it to me because of this, but I tell them I can handle it even spicier or something similar. This evidently causes some animosity, but I think they give me some. I notice that they all have darker skin, and I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the way they’re treating me (I’m tempted to think it’s because I’m white). When we go back again, we still get poor service, seemingly deliberately. There is one girl in particular (with darker skin and darker, bushy hair) who is blatantly ignoring us. I think we try to say something and another girl (white, with blond hair) defends her. I don’t know what we’ve done wrong. This is enough now to cause this girl to start ranting at us. She starts going off, and things keep escalating until she is out here by us, tirading. I have some dish of food that I end up setting down so I can record her with my phone. I think she almost kicks the food over. I’m not even upset, just in disbelief at how unwarranted her behavior is. After it’s over, I go back to the counter to file a complaint. I tell one of the girls that I get it, I’ve worked in food service, but there is absolutely no reason she should’ve done that to a customer. Oddly, they happily oblige and hand me a form. I start writing, detailing everything, and it becomes quite long. I run out of space on the thick, brown paper that looks more like a menu and end up writing on a table?