On Mother's Day, Tom and I rode our new bikes to Uptown Minneapolis to have dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.
As we approached, it was evident by the line out the door, there might be a wait.
To our surprise, we were seated almost immediately on the patio.
There was a young family behind us, mom, dad, two children. I'm guessing between 4-6 years of age.
It was very clear, based on their very loud conversation, they were not happy with the service or the food.
Shortly after we were seated, the woman called the server over and was quite rude, saying not only did it take over 45 minutes for them to be served but her food was cold.
Immediately, the server apologized and whisked the cold food to the kitchen to be warmed up.
When the server came to our table to take our order, she explained that today was only her third day on the job. She was very flustered.
After she left our table, the rude women behind us chimed in and said something like, “that's not an excuse for bad service.”
I was kind of taken aback and pretended like I didn't hear her.
Not even five minutes later, the rude women says to her kids and husband, “I haven't dined and dashed since my college days, but let's go, I'm not paying for this meal.”
Mind you, husband and kids were still eating theirs.
I couldn't believe my ears.
I looked at Tom and was like, did she really say that.
I felt like we were on an episode of What Would You Do with John Quiñones and I was failing miserably.
By the time I turned around, to say, I don't know what, they were halfway down the block.
I've replayed this in my head quite a few times, and while I am still unsettled about my lack of action, I am still not sure what, if anything, was the right thing to do.
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