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A Story About Complaining

Grumbling

Personal Insult. A man sits in the restaurant and scolds into thin air. He didn’t like the food; he doesn’t like potatoes. He finds potatoes terrible. He can’t even look at French fries. It’s like a personal insult to put potatoes on his plate.

The waiter asks the belligerent to calm down, to dampen his voice a bit. Other guests might feel disturbed.

The potato hater, however, doesn’t let his verbiage go dry until the waiter promises to call in the cook.

With sinister mine, the man stares at the kitchen door, through which the monster, responsible for the gruesome food on his plate, and for the malaise, will come. After all, he has emptied the plate, and now he is sick.

He would like to let the meal, yet again, go through his head, wishes he had never seen this dish.

The cook comes to the table and asks, was something wrong with the food?

Potatoes are disgusting; they are an offence to humanity, why you make such a dish?

Were the potatoes too soft, asks the cook in amazement, or too starchy?

The potatoes were potatoes! An insult to the good taste! An impertinence!

The waiter and cook look at each other at a loss. They don’t understand what the angry guest is so outraged about.

So

you didn’t like it, the waiter tries to lay a foundation for the further discussion.

Of course not, potatoes are terrible.

So I misunderstood your order, you wanted a different dish?

The guest shook his head. You probably don’t understand what I mean?

Frankly, no, replied the waiter.

Even the cook is at his wit’s end. We get fresh produce every afternoon; we have never had complaints, he explains.

The guest is again unpleasantly loud; it’s not about whether the food is fresh! It’s not about the preparation! It’s about what you offer, potatoes!

But, well, you are aware that our restaurant also offers pasta dishes, rice dishes and, for example, tarte flambée?

Surely you also have good food, scolds the man, but I just ate potatoes in your restaurant, why can’t you understand me?

The chef takes a menu at hand. Which dish did you order?

The

index finger of the guest points to the entry,

Colourful Potato Pan with Spinach and Beef Tomatoes.

The waiter says, There it reads potato, potato pan.

Did you overlook that? The cook asks.

No, the guest sharply replied.

So you knew you were ordering a potato dish?

An irritated yes came from the guest!

And why did you order it if you do not like potatoes?

The man puts money on the table and gets up. As he leaves the restaurant, he murmurs, These people don’t understand, they do not understand!

A man sits at the computer and scolds into thin air. He didn’t like the story; he doesn’t like horror stories. He finds horror terrible. Not even thrillers with some blood, he can read. It’s like a personal insult to present him with a bloody knife in a story.

The Anteater

Personal Insult

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