• Who: Mary, Mary’s sister Sarah, Mary’s brother-in-law Steven
• Where: Glover Park
• What: Summer omelet no goat cheese [x4], homefries, coffee, bloody

Sometimes you go somewhere and the service is so bad, it’s just funny. Well, it’s funny until you realize that it’s 95 degrees outside and you just biked up a GIANT hill and arrived sweaty and disgusting and your friends had already ordered their food due to a ‘miscommunication’ (ahem ahem cough cough) and you were not in the mood for some crappy restaurant experience. Then you calm down a bit and see the humor in the situation, and it becomes funny again. Funny until you get your bill and realize that you were charged for every single little mistake they made during your brunch-long nightmare. But when it gets to that point, guess what…the joke’s on them!

Not leaving a tip is a big deal, and is something I’ve never done before—not even when I was a 9th grader at Olive Garden splitting the unlimited Soup Salad and Breadsticks deal between a group of six people at Washington Square. Even then, at fourteen years old, I was sure to leave a tip for our $7.99 six-way meal. I may not be an over-tipper, but I do very firmly believe that people are generally working hard and trying their best and they should be compensated appropriately for dealing with my constant substitutions and ridiculous questions, even if they mess up a few times.  However, what I do NOT believe in, is tipping the same amount every time just because it’s the status quo. Expecting me to leave 15-18% just because the server managed to show up for work that day is like saying that me responding to all my work emails 2 months late and making smelly tuna for lunch and talking loudly on the phone to Comcast for hours at a time in my cube deserves a promotion, which i am certainly not getting.

The first indication that we were on a downward course on Sunday was the coffee. I can only base this first part on hearsay [due to the “miscommunication”], but apparently after a large debate over whether the kitchen could supply milk, someone came to the conclusion that we didn’t actually want coffee. Steven is luckily a very resourceful guy, and when he noticed that a stray pot had been accidentally left in the vicinity of our table, he decided to take charge—which didn’t seem to phase anyone who worked there, and they seem satisfied to let Steven fill us up for the rest of the morning. 

The real issue, though, was Omeletgate 2011. Omelet #1, was composed of no omelet. Although I am tempted to blame this on Kitchen, it was really not their fault, as I did order after everyone else [due to the “miscommunication”]. But still, it was annoying to just sit there and watch everyone eat so I was grouchy.

Omelet #2 was pretty good, until I realized, “Oh Crap! There’s cheese!” No big deal, my fault for ordering a substitution, but a little annoying since my dining partners were now pretty much finished. But fine, I might as well just get what I want—I’m paying for it, right?

Omelet #3 came out pretty fast. I was impressed—they really have their act together! That was until I took my first bite. Cheese. A second omelet with cheese! At this point, everyone is done. Sarah and Steven have to go do some errands, and we were left with the harsh, pointed command of an older sister that must be obeyed—“IF THEY TRY TO CHARGE YOU FOR THAT, YOU RAISE HELL!”

Omelet #4 was finally a success. A success in that it arrived intact. However, at this point, half our party was now gone and I had eaten enough of Mary’s potatoes that I was only interested in an omelet shaped like a wine glass with sauvignon blanc inside.

Under these circumstances, there is no good solution. Somewhere between omelets 3 and 4, we had all reached a moment of zen where it didn’t really matter anymore. Nobody was mad (except Sarah, who I’m sure has already told every one of her friends in the neighborhood and yelped at least three times), nobody was hungry, and nobody felt even the slightest bit guilty putting a big fat zero in the tip line when not one thing was deducted from our bill. We paid for exactly what we got. Our food and our coffee. And only after three (or four, depending on who’s counting) tries and help from Steven, their newest employee.