Breakfast

The other two guys in my company who're still here for pass decided to go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast today.

First thing the hostess did was look at their shirts (both emblazoned with ARMY in big block letters) and ask wide-eyed with amazement, "Are you in the Army?" You've got to be kidding me. Really? She was somehow awestruck that less than 15 miles from an Army base, there were soldiers having breakfast. Wow.

But then, oh no. They undercooked their eggs (mine were fine). So they sent them back. Okay, fine. Not my style, as I generally fail to give a crap about meaningless stuff like that. Then they came back overcooked. Uh-oh. You've offended my buddy's delicate sensitivities about his food. We were mostly done at that point, and this guy is pissed. He snatches the check out of my hand, tromps up to the counter, and when asked how his meal was: "Crappy."

He proceeded to bitch until the manager came over, listened politely, then took the receipt, shook our hands, and said good day. I was a little dumbfounded--I dont go out to restaurants often, and that's never happened before.

It didn't sit well with me at all. Working a restaurant is, by all accounts I've heard, a pretty shitty job. Worse than the Army, even. So while they were out smoking their cigarette (I'm quite sick of waiting for addicts to do their business so I can get on with mine, by the way), I went back in and told the cashier, "My meal was fine, I'll pay for it." You know what she told me? The manager wouldn't let me. Say what? How can he not let me pay for my food. It just feels wrong. She suggested, helpfully, that I do something nice for somebody and thanked me for coming back. So now I owe the universe a favor. Any suggestions? Worthy charities, maybe?