Everything on our menu is covered in one of the following: butter, oil, or cheese. The item is then slapped on to a family-style platter and thrown on the table with no regard for presentation whatsoever.
So I have this old guy in a beat up ugly suit. He's alone and he orders the stuffed mushrooms. They're stuffed with what I'm sure is whatever the chef scraped off the bottom of the deep fryer and served in an unidentified puddle of liquid with an orangish hue.
Me: How are the stuffed mushrooms?
Him: They are ::pauses, closes eyes, tilts head back:: exquisite.
No they. fucking. aren't. Nothing at this shithole is close to "exquisite."
Moral of the story: People are gross and I hate my job.
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