“I can’t eat this,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir?”
“I can’t eat this! There’s a worm in my salad.”
“Yes sir, I see that.”
“It’s disgusting! I want a new salad, and I don’t think I should have to pay for it.”
“Sir, I do apologize for the worm, and we’d be happy to make you a new, worm-free salad. However, I can’t give it to you free of charge.”
“Nonsense, of course you can, and you will.”
“Sir, that is a very expensive salad you ordered, and it would come out of my wage to give it to you for free.”
“Well, that’s not my problem. You screwed it up, so you pay for it.”
“No, sir, I can’t do that. I have neither the money, nor the ability to do so, as the only one who can make such a decision is the owner, who isn’t here now.”
“Well, you can either do what I ask, or we leave here right now without paying for anything.”
“If you do that, sir, we’ll call the police for theft.”
“Ha, good luck figuring out who I am!”
“You gave your name, sir, when you made the reservation.”
“Bu…well…fine, here’s the damn money, and I’m never eating here again! You crooks!”
“Good sir. This is the most prestigious restaurant in this city, and we don’t need business like yours. And if you didn’t want the worm in your salad sir, might I suggest next time you don’t order the worm salad?”
“I didn’t order a worm salad!”
“‘Verre de terre’, sir, is French for worm.”
“I…wa…little fucker. Go to hell.”
“Yes, sir.”
