Undercooked steak destroys idiot woman's ability to tolerate beef

....initially. The server has checked back and everyone's answer is affirmative. On a subsequent walk-by, however, the server realizes that the aforementioned ribeye-aficionado isn't eating her steak. He attempts to engage the woman in conversation to try and remedy the situation but, alas, the husband has to tell him not to bother, he's already tried.

I'm sure the server's thinking, "Well, if you can't talk to her, I sure as hell am not going to try!" and takes the steak away. Ultimately, a manager comes to the table to see what he can accomplish. The woman, who with the server was annoying, but at least quiet, decides to let loose on the poor manager. She's had steak well done for 40+ years and has never been subjected to such a horrifying experience! She's not sure she'll ever be able to eat steak again!

Really!! Never eat steak again?! I'm pretty sure that the server could've gotten on top of the table, dropped trou and shit on my steak and whereas I might not have had any further desire for that particular steak, I'm fairly certain I would've enjoyed another steak in the future. Sans shit, preferably.

If the steak wasn't to her liking, why couldn't she just let them redo it? I'm sure it wasn't that bad and they seemed more than willing to try. Was it really necessary to get her panties in such a wad? And judging by the size of that ass, we're talking about quite a bit of wadding here. In the end, it appeared the table was indulged in some free desserts to assuage the restaurant's guilt for their hand in the woman's future inability to eat beef.

The one funny part of the whole thing was the other gentleman's reaction. After all was said and done, he made a big point of telling the server how good his steak was and how much he enjoyed it, as if to emphasize to the woman what a pain in the ass she'd been.

The degree of hyperbole to which some people live their lives never ceases to amaze me. I mean, really, it must be physically exhausting. Come with me gentle reader. You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into an obnoxious restaurant land where boundaries are that of exasperation. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Drama Zone!

Picture two couples in their late fifties sitting down for dinner at a local upscale dining establishment. Things seem to be going well. All four are engaged in lively conversation. The one gentleman has made some pretense of ordering a wine that probably didn't merit such pretense but so be it. Specials have been spieled and everyone is ordering their selections with abandon. The one lady, presumably the wife/significant other of the wine-orderer, has ordered her ribeye well done, adamant to the point of stating that last time the steak was underdone. Okay, that's fine, this is the United States of America after all. At least it wasn't a filet.

Eventually, entrees are delivered and everyone seems to be okay

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