Waiter, There's a Piece of Scrap Metal in My Soup

So Amy and I are having dinner at one of our favorite spots last night.  Since Wednesday is half way through the week and Auburn half way between home and work, the Auburn Applebee’s has become kind of a standing mid-week date for us; long enough that about half the help staff there knows us by sight.

Here in the winter time I usually order a bowl of Applebee's French onion soup. It’s yummy. They melt cheese over the surface and drop in a piece of spongy bread that floats in the broth. It’s one of my few culinary vices because the caloric content is probably measured astronomically. But on a cold December night it makes a warm and tasty meal. Comfort food.

However between my third and fourth slurp, expecting cheese and French onion my taste buds instead detected something different and probably non-edible. With trepidation, I brought the spoon back out of my mouth and found, embedded in a glump of cheese, a small piece of thin "S" shaped wire. It looked like an itty-bitty sideways snake, but surprisingly my reaction was more curiosity than revulsion. I was just glad I hadn't swallowed it.

"Hey check this out", I announced and showed Amy my discovery. Though interesting, neither of us could quite place what the thing was or how it ended up in my soup.  We deliberated another few moments before I placed the spoon and unidentified sinking object on the table and nudged the bowl aside. No sense pushing my luck. Though I wasn't terribly put off I didn't want to risk coming across anymore unexpected 'treasures' lying in wait beneath the surface of my soup. Just then the manager came by, as she always does, to check if everything was okay. Non-boat rockers, we both answered, "Yes."

But before she could get away, I changed my mind. I figured they'd probably want to know. "Excuse me" I held up the spoon with the swirly wire on it. "I found this in my soup". She came closer to examine the inedible artifact I'd fished out of one of her kitchen's supposedly sterile soup bowls. "What is that?" she quizzed, mortified. Continuing to study the object she did the only thing she could do. Apologize and make restitution. "Oh, I am so sorry. That looks like something that might’ve come off one of the scrub brushes we use on the grills. I'm going to deduct this from your bill and if you'd like another bowl of soup I'll bring one back. No charge."  

Although the incident was mildly distasteful, I decided to take her up on her offer. After all, I justified, a brush used to scrub the grill was less offensive than one used to scour the dirty dishes. And my French onion soup fix hadn't been completely satisfied. And assuming they'd put this fresh bowl though a full body scan before bringing it out, I gladly accepted.

And we all lived happily ever after.

There is no point to this little story. It's just one of those little life moments that come up every now and then. Shoot, having worked in food service before, I know stuff just happens sometimes and wasn't going to raise a fuss. But in this day and age, when customer service in many places just sucks, it was heartening to see the restaurant manager step up, address the problem, take the hit and make things right. So we'll be back at the Auburn Applebee's again. Probably even next Wednesday night.  amends

However, if I die of scrub-brush poisoning between now and then, I've instructed my heirs to sue the hell out of 'em.