Local Man Short Changed

July 26, 2007 | by Ryan C | No Comments

Contributed to Crooked Street Press by Ryan Curtis

Dave Covalt
Owner
Izzy’s

Dear Mr. Covalt:
I am writing to inform you about a tragic event that took place in
your restaurant on the evening of June the twenty third.
After nearly three thousand miles and over a week in the car, I found
myself standing travel-worn on the threshold of Izzy’s. Having
eaten no more than convience store snacks for three states, the
prospects of an all you can eat buffet for less than ten dollars had
me and my traveling partner (my cousin) giddy. Between the two of us
we had twenty-two dollars and a handful of pocket lint, just the
perfect amount for two classic buffets’.
After being seated, we eagerly attacked the delectable looking buffet
line, piling four trips worth of food, on a single plate. We picked
up our drinks, retired to our table and ravenously devoured every
scrap of our tasty horde with no more than an occasional grunt or
belch for communication. The food was excellent. We found the
delicate balance of your pizza’s doughy center and crisp bottom, so
appealing that we consumed no less than our combined body weight in
the hour of our stay. We would have eaten more but found ourselves
agreeing (with a series of grunts and nod’s) that we simply had to
sample each and every one of the savory deserts situated in constant
sight of our table. To our delight, desert was nearly as good as the
pizza.
Full to the level of immanent explosion, we tossed our napkins on our
plates and undid the top buttons of newly tightened pants. It was
about this time that our aged and obvious veteran server swaggered
over with the check and a salty good night. We quickly drained our
drinks and examined the bill. Imagine our delight when we discovered
that we were exactly seventy-five cents short.
We looked from the bill to our drinks in utter perplex ion. There,
just above the total line was a rather unsightly charge of three
dollars and fifty-eight cents, with the word’s “two drinks” for
company. Utter panic ensued. Why had nobody informed us that unlike
every other buffet on the planet, drinks were not included?
Graciously, I excused myself from the table and marched out of the
restaurant and into the parking lot where I had left the Cadillac
Escalade we called home for the last week. I had not been so
embarrassed since I took Amanda Sorensen on a date to the Italian
cottage in college. That was the night that Amanda discovered a
taste for Scallops and copious amounts of good wine, while my wallet
had taste enough for only spaghetti and ice water.
Like a mad man, I burrowed my way through the Escalade in search of
discarded drive through change and spare pennies. After a search of
no less than twelve hours, I climbed out to the vehicle and plopped
down in one of four seats I had removed and counted a handful of
pennies and a few odd nickels. I had uncovered exactly seventy-six
cents, enough to cover the bill and leave a meager tip. Like the
cock of the walk, I strutted back to my table and slid into the
booth, opposite my irritated cousin. He had spent the duration of my
search feigning utter fascination with the now gelatinous pile of
tapioca on the plate before him. My smile informed him of the
success of the mission, a success celebrated with another round of
fruit punch. After a rousing fit of slimming yet concealed belches,
we left.
We tied the seats to the roof of the Escalade and made the final leg
of our journey in stuffed silence. It was in this silence that I
realized just how sneaky it was for Izzy’s to place the self-serve
soda fountain in the midst of the buffet line, where unwary patrons
would be easily duped into a costly beverage. In hindsight, I see
this as no more than a slightly unscrupulous tactic but at the time,
it was a crime of no less than high treason and demanded the
offenders spend the remainder of their lives in a bleak and privy
less Irish prison.
I do understand your desire to keep your price point beneath the
magical ten dollar mark and I applaud your obviously superior
product, but for the love of David Hasselhoff…. Inform your patrons
that drinks are extra prior to the arrival of the bill.
Sincerely,
Ryan Curtis
Buffet Connoisseur