The waitress shortly returned to bring us our cups (and there were two of them, as we requested), and she also brought a coffee urn that had some hot coffee on the inside; and some old, cold coffee plastered on the outside. So we went to work with knife and fork and did some transplant surgery on our meals. Then Dorothea realized she was missing her toast (see how you forget things when you are playing with your food?) And her hash browns were nowhere to be seen, although we looked closely. Another call to the waitress, and the waitress was back to the kitchen to get some hash browns and toast. By that time, Dorothea and I were getting a little confused, and she was wondering where my hash browns were; at that point, I wasn't sure if I was to get hash browns or not. Because I had a plate of pancakes, we decided that I probably don't get hash browns; and we shook our heads to try and clear the fog that was descending on us.
A little while later, the waitress dutifully returned with Dorothea's hash browns. But no toast. She said that they forgot to cook any toast, but they are doing it now. While waiting for her toast, Dorothea tried to cut the steak that they had mistakenly put into her omelet. But the knife was dull and wouldn't cut. It was also dirty. Dorothea went to the kitchen area to request a steak knife for her omelet, and some of the employees there laughed at her.
Now Dorothea and I could get down to eating. About time! Dorothea cautioned me to be calm and not shout when that happened, and I assured her I would be reasonable.
My back was to the kitchen area, so I didn't see anything, but Dorothea was watching, and she said, "Oh my god, if that's the manager, we are in trouble."
"I'm not in trouble," I told her, "Somebody else might be, but not me. The best the people in this place can do right now is to stay away from me. Besides, why do you say that?"
Dorothea said, "Because the waitress is talking to this girl who a while ago was one of the ones horseplaying. She was putting her hands under her armpit, holding out her elbows, and walking around like a chicken."
In front of the customers? I asked myself.
Well, this girl comes over, and Dorothea asked her if she was the manager. The girl said she was the assistant manager. Anyway, we started to register our complaints about the food and service, and before we could get many words out, the "assistant manager" interrupted and began a tirade about how we had nothing to complain about because if we didn't like the food it could be recooked, etc. We didn't get a chance to mention the dirty coffee urn, the dirty knife, the employees laughing at Dorothea for requesting a knife for her omelet, the surly attitude of the cashier, and the general horseplay and childishness of the employees. I did get to mention that the faucet in the bathroom didn't work, and Dorothea managed to get out that the meal order was all screwed up But that was as far as we got, because the "assistant manager" insisted on telling us how we had nothing to complain about. I finally told her that I didn't want her to argue with us, we have made some complaints, and we just wanted her to listen. I'm not sure she heard me, because she never stopped talking. Three times I asked her to stop arguing with us, with no effect. So finally, I told her bluntly, "SHUT UP!"
Dorothea and I got up to leave, and while I was putting my jacket on, I apologized to the diners next to our table for the uproar. They grinned and the man said, "That's all right, man. We understand. Terrible service!"
On our way to the cashier, I saw the "assistant manager" again and told her I wanted to see the REAL manager, not some snot-nosed horseplaying kid who berates customers who have legitimate complaints. As it happened, the REAL ASSISTANT manager was coming into the restaurant.