Sweetie?

OK my blood is boiling! I am 58 years old. I am gluten intolerant, newly discovered, and am trying to weed out what I can eat at restaurants. I had to go to town today and started looking for a place to eat lunch. I remembered that the local wing place has grilled chicken strips.

So after waiting 10 minutes for my drink and another 10 minutes for a young thing to come take my order, I started asking her questions. She did bring the bottle my wing sauce came from and the label showed no gluten or wheat. I ordered grilled winglets with the sauce and a salad. After 20 minutes another young thing brings me a platter with the winglets and a pile of french fries. I told her I had ordered a salad instead of the fries. She disappears to get the salad. A young man brings me the salad, covered with croutons. Rats! I decided to just pick them off, but I didn't have salad dressing.

I asked the young man if the fries were cooked with the breaded things or had a dedicated fryer. (McDonald's has a dedicated potato fryer-I know I worked there for 4 years.) He said no they were not cooked with the chicken. When he came back, he said he asked the cook and the cook said that the grilled winglets and the fries were not cooked together. I said, "That's not what I asked. Are the fries cooked in the same vat as breaded things?" He said, "Yes, but your chicken is grilled." Sheeesh! I tried to explain about cross-contamination, but gave up.

Now the original waitress, "Holly" or something, brought my salad dressing (finally) and started coming by often and calling me "Sweetie." Every time she spoke to me she called me "Sweetie!!!"

Like I said I'm 58 and she was all of 19. A little respect here, people. I almost wrote on the credit card reciept, "your tip would have been bigger if you hadn't called me sweetie," but I figured she wouldn't get it so I gave up and left.

They said they wouldn't charge me for the salad but they did. There were finely chopped tomatoes in the salad. I was so frustrated and hungry by that point I just ate them, forgetting that fresh tomatoes give me stomach cramps.

Of course, I got the cramps. I had to race home-20 miles. $10.50 plus tip for this? I won't go back.

Update-I stopped by the local cafe today. One of the waitresses reads my blog. She couldn't wait to hand me my ticket, and call me Sweetie! She said she hoped I'd come in. Bad girl, Kami!