After sharing my disastrous dining experience with you last week, many people urged me to immediately reveal the name of the Fancy Pants Restaurant that done me wrong. I resisted—not because I’m a classy dame who takes the high road, but because I was hoping for some restitution in the form of a free meal.

The day after I sent that letter (minus the subtext), I received the following reply:

Hi Lori,

Best,
Ms. Fancy Pants Restaurant Owner

Obviously I was thrilled with such a prompt and promising response. Then I realized I would have to speak to her, which I wasn’t so keen to do. My best work is done with a laptop as my buffer. Talking often leads to inadvertent Canadian politeness that could diminish the impact of my grievances.

Thankfully the Serb saved the day by pissing me off (who needs 9 jackets in the hall closet?!?) right before the owner called me and I had an appropriate edge to my voice. The owner kindly offered a complimentary meal for me and a guest on a night of my choosing—all I would need to do is phone in advance and speak to the manager.

I hung up quite pleased with myself; a feeling that lasted for all of three minutes, until I began imagining how it would feel to show up at the Fancy Pants Restaurant with every employee knowing that I had complained. What if someone spits in my soup? Or wipes my fork in their armpit? Or worse?*

Herein lies my conundrum: do I risk the wrath of wait staff for a free meal? What do you think? Should I walk in there with my head held high and demand some decent food without the attitude, or should I take the apology as my prize and forget about the meal? I know I’ve done a lot more for a lot less in my time…

*The Serb has worked at FPRs all over the world and he assures me that yes, worse things could easily happen.

Sweet Jeezuz, I am screwed.