Black Friday at Ruby Tuesday

Sheri and I headed out first thing Friday for the first official day of Christmas shopping. For some reason, the day is referred to as Black Friday. I don’t really know why and I’m too lazy to go look it up. Plus, I just don’t care.

We went to a lot of stores on Black Friday. The worst was Best Buy. It was a mad house. It reminded me of the fall of Saigon. Except there weren’t any Huey helicopters lifting people to safety from the top of the store and there weren’t any Vietnamese people. At least I didn’t see any Vietnamese people. We ended up not getting anything at Best Buy. Out of all the things we had on our list, the only thing we could find on sale was one single DVD. It wasn’t worth standing in the massive line.

I’ll spare everyone all the boring stories about shopping other then to say that I know own two copies of Spider-Man 2. I thought I was getting a good deal at less then $4 until I got home and noticed it already sitting on the shelf. Oops. That basically summed up the whole day.

We decided to get lunch-dinner at Ruby Tuesday. It’s a typical chain restaurant that specializes in hamburgers and Good Times. It decorates it’s walls with dumb looking nick-knacks. For instance, an old wooden cross-country ski might be hanging next to a an old movie poster. A movie nobody even remotely remembers. An old trombone might be displayed next to an old black and white photo of a basketball team comprised of nothing but skinny white guys. For some reason, a lot of these chain hamburger places all decorate the same retarded way.

Our waiter, Pony Tail Guy came and took our order. I ordered something called a Classic Cheeseburger. I don’t normally eat red meat, but every once in a while cow flesh sounds half-way good to me. Pony Tail Guy asked me how I wanted my Classic Cheeseburger cooked, which I thought was kind of strange. I thought the law required restaurants to completely cook hamburger meat. Even the ones that decorate their walls with old tennis rackets. I told Pony Tail Guy that I wanted it well done. I also asked for mayonnaise instead of the special Ruby Tuesday sauce. How can it even be considered a Classic Cheeseburger if Ruby Tuesday puts their own special sauce on it instead of mayonnaise?

You don’t mess with the classics.

When our food came, I noticed instead of having mayonnaise, it had the weird looking Ruby Tuesday sauce. It’s not like I was surprised. How can Pony Tail Guy honestly be expected to remember my order when he obviously cannot remember to get a haircut?

I started to eat my Classic Cheeseburger and noticed that it was cold. As in it wasn’t very hot. I took a good look at it and noticed that the inside of the Classic Cheeseburger was very pink. The center of the burger patty was completely uncooked.

I stopped eating my Classic Cheeseburger tar-tar and concentrated on my fries. Unlike my Classic Cheeseburger, the fries appeared to be fully cooked. At least they weren’t bright pink inside.

Pony Tail Guy came over to our table and asked if everything was good. I said nothing, but my wife said there was a problem. She told him that my burger wasn’t right. He asked me what was wrong with it and I told him that it was raw inside. He looked at it and actually tried to argue with me whether it was raw or not. I don’t know if someone once told him that he had special Jedi mind powers, but there was no way he was going to convince me that raw hamburger is cooked. He admitted that I ordered my Classic Cheeseburger cooked well done, but said it looked to him to be medium well. Oh really? I think I know raw meat when I see it. Not to brag or anything.

He asked me if I wanted to send it back and get another. I told him no. I told him that I wasn’t really impressed in their burger cooking ability. He told me that he would take it off the bill.

I don’t like to complain at restaurants. No matter what the facts are, they always win and you always lose. They handle your food when you aren’t looking. They can do whatever they want to your food and you would not be the wiser. Until you come down with a raging case of dysentery the next day. Not to mention the havoc they can unleash with your credit card that you freely give them. People get all hardcore about online security when it comes to their credit card number, but they wont think twice about giving the actual card to a pony tailed waiter for a few minutes.

Instead of complaining at a restaurant, I just don’t leave a tip. You might say that this passive-aggressive act would set me up for the next time I return to this restaurant, but if it has escalated to me not leaving a tip, I’m never going back to that restaurant anyway. If it’s really bad, not only do I not leave a tip, I keep the pen the waiter or waitress left me to sign the check with.

That’s just how I roll.

The funniest part about the whole experience was that as we were leaving, a woman sitting at another table was complaining to her waitress about her burger. She was complaining that it was raw.

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