Sugar sugar baby

[21] The scandal

Things had been going unbelievably well for the first two weeks. The restaurant was packed every day, the buzz on social media kept growing, and it felt like we were on top of the world. I was riding the high of success, thinking nothing could slow us down. But then... the scandal hit.

It started with a single post. I was in the restaurant, checking our Instagram feed like I did every day when I saw it—a long, ranting comment under one of our most popular posts.

"I went to Flavors of the World two days ago and got the worst fking stomach ache of my life! Pretty sure it was food poisoning. I've been puking and shitting nonstop since I ate there. DO NOT GO. This place is dangerous!"

I froze, reading the comment over and over again, feeling the blood drain from my face. This wasn't just a bad review—this was an outright accusation. Food poisoning? Are you fucking kidding me?

"Sasha!" I called out, my voice shaking. "You need to see this."

Sasha came rushing over from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "What's up?" she asked, her usual upbeat energy replaced with concern as she saw the look on my face.

I handed her my phone, showing her the post. "We've got a problem."

She read the comment, her face tightening with anger. "Fuck. That's not good."

"No shit, it's not good," I said, pacing back and forth. "We've had thousands of customers through the door, and this is the first time anyone's said anything like this. How could this happen?"

Sasha frowned, staring down at the phone. "It's gotta be bullshit. We've been meticulous about the food. The kitchen's clean, we've got all the right procedures in place... there's no way we served anything that would give someone food poisoning."

I nodded, trying to calm the storm of panic rising in my chest. "That's what I thought, but people don't give a fuck about the truth on social media. They see one person saying they got sick, and suddenly everyone's gonna think we're poisoning people."

Sasha's jaw tightened. "Okay, so what do we do? We need to respond to this. Fast."

I grabbed my phone and started typing out a reply, my fingers shaking slightly.

"We're so sorry to hear about your experience. We take food safety very seriously and would love to speak with you to find out more about what happened. Please reach out to us directly so we can resolve this."

I hit send, hoping it would be enough to calm the situation before it got out of hand. But I barely had a second to breathe before the replies started flooding in.

"Holy shit, that's terrifying. I was gonna go there this weekend. Now I'm not so sure."

"I had a weird stomach ache after I ate there too. Is this place even legit?"

"Y'all need to be shut down. Serving people food poisoning? That's fucked up."

The comments kept pouring in, and I could feel the walls closing in around me. The success, the buzz, the excitement—it all seemed to slip through my fingers in a matter of minutes.

Sasha stood beside me, her face pale. "Fuck, Tristan. This is spiraling."

"I know," I muttered, scrolling through the flood of negative comments. "We need to get ahead of this. We need to reach out to this person, figure out what the hell happened."

Sasha nodded. "I'll have the kitchen staff double-check everything, but I know we didn't serve anything bad. This has to be some kind of mistake."

I spent the next hour trying to reach the person who posted the comment, sending them DMs, offering them a refund, free meals, whatever it took to get them to talk to us. But every message I sent came back with the same result.

User has blocked you.

"Shit!" I slammed my phone down on the counter, my frustration boiling over. "They fucking blocked us."

Sasha ran a hand through her ponytail, pacing the floor. "This smells fishy. Who the hell blocks you after making a claim like that? If they really got food poisoning, wouldn't they want to talk to us, figure it out?"

I nodded, the same thought gnawing at the back of my mind. "Exactly. But we can't say that without proof. If we start accusing people of lying, it's only gonna make things worse."

Sasha leaned against the counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "So, what do we do? Just sit back and let them drag us through the mud?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation crushing down on me. "We keep trying to reach out. We make a public statement, something neutral, apologetic. We do everything we can to show people we care about their safety. And we hope this blows over."

Sasha didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "I'll get the staff on high alert. We'll make sure everything is perfect, even more than usual. If there's another complaint, it'll crush us."

I spent the rest of the day glued to my phone, responding to comments, trying to put out fires on social media. Every time I thought we were getting a handle on it, another wave of comments would come in, accusing us of serving bad food, questioning our safety standards. It felt like a never-ending battle.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained. I sat down at one of the tables, my head in my hands, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong. The restaurant was still full of customers, but the excitement was gone. Now, all I felt was dread.

Sasha sat down beside me, her face just as tired as mine. "We'll get through this, Tristan," she said, though there wasn't much conviction in her voice.

I looked up at her, forcing a smile. "Yeah. We'll figure it out."

But in the pit of my stomach, I wasn't so sure. The success we'd worked so hard for felt like it was slipping away, and no matter what I did, I couldn't stop it.

Later that night, I checked social media one last time before heading to bed. The comments were still coming in, but one stood out to me—someone who had been at the restaurant earlier that day.

"I went to Flavors of the World today and had an amazing meal. No stomach aches here. Don't believe everything you read online."

It was a small glimmer of hope, but it was something. I took a deep breath, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the truth would find its way through the noise.

Q: What would you do in this case?