Creative Compromise

For several reasons, I decided to catch a quick dinner at the IHOP near my hotel this evening. Sitting near me (the tables are SO close together) was a group of various-aged men talking loudly about the martial arts in which they are involved and some online forum to which they contribute, blah, blah. The only topic they covered that was more boring - and more irritating - was the poor service.

Their coffee didn't come fast enough, their food didn't come fast enough, and the soda came with ice instead of the requested without. In my head, I formulated several things I might say to them on my way out, like pointing out that the 2 hostesses/servers were working their assess off, likely for little pay and less respect. Or that if the group of 13 men - yes, a group of 13 crammed into several IHOP tables - were after impeccable service, they should have gone to Ruth's Chris and paid for it.

Instead, I bit my tongue. And when I paid my bill I mentioned to the waitress that the guys were bitching and moaning. Then I gave her a big tip. On my way out, she was contemplating ways to teach them what poor service really is - and she had yet to serve their food.