I'm sure we can all agree that it is a sad day when a man burned by fajitas while praying can't sue Applebee's. But perhaps it will provide him -- and the rest of us mourning this tragedy of our broken judicial system -- some solace to know that he is not alone.
Here are five more reasons gleaned from personal experience why you can't sue Applebee's.
1. I fundamentally misunderstood the skills I developed through the Build Your Sampler appetizer option.
As a result of this miscommunication, I was denied a job in construction after listing my Build Your Sampler experience as the sole entry on my resume. Isn't that just like Applebee's? To promise me an exciting future and then deliver food that tastes like a cardboard boot smothered in cheese?
The foreman I met with openly mocked me when I shared my innovative approach to building my appetizer by matching nachos with nachos. "Couldn't you just order nachos?" "CAN'T WE ALL JUST LIVE OUTSIDE?!" The answer to both of our questions was, obviously, "no, we are not animals."
2. I spilled my Fireball Whisky Lemonade on my friend, and now she's being weird about watching my dog when I go on vacation.
Sure, spilling a drink could happen to anyone (and probably always happens to Janice, because she's such A PAIN IN MY ASS I HOPE YOU'RE READING THIS, JANICE), but the difference here is that Applebee's Fireball Whisky Lemonade is both tart and fiery -- neither of which I was alerted to by my server prior to it arriving at the table.
In an unfortunate conjunction of events, Janice called me a "self-centered drama queen" right at the same moment when I took that first shocking sip and the whole glass just flew out of my hand and spilled all over Janice. It also broke her nose. Maybe Janice can sue Applebee's and give the money to me to just board the dog, and then we can put all of this unpleasantness behind us (Janice, if you're reading this, I'm sorry).
3. I asked my server out and could not get a definitive "yes" or "no."
I almost never do this, but he was paying, like, a ton of attention to me. Smiles, probing questions about my preferences... He even helped me look for my toe ring when I thought I lost it in the booth. (Nope, I was wearing boots!)
Do I have to spell this out for you? Or is it enough to say that he was wearing a button on his vest that said "Good Mood" on one half and "Bad Mood" on the other half and it was flipped up so that "Good Mood" was on the top (!)? So I asked him out, and it really hurt my feelings -- in what I think should be an illegal way -- when he didn't say yes.
He also didn't say no; he just kind of laughed and asked me if I wanted dessert. I WAS TRYING, DUDE. And yes, I'll have a Strawberry Cheesecake Dessert Shooter and can I do that as a body shot? Ha ha! I'm not saying he was leading me on, I just think Applebee's owes me an apology and they should pay for the dry cleaning of my sweater because once I got the idea of a body shot in my mind, I had to do it and I was the only willing participant.
4. Applebee's told me I could "have it all."
There are seven (7) entrées on the Applebee's menu that promise these results, and I have eaten all seven in one sitting. I am still depressed, unemployed and unmotivated to even start the copy of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest that mocks me from my bookshelf.
I sincerely doubt that these are the meals Sheryl Sandberg is tucking into every night over her desk while another woman leans in to nannying the Sandberg kids. I AM NO CLOSER TO HAVING IT ALL THAN BEFORE I ATE THESE ASPIRATIONAL DINNERS, APPLEBEE'S!
I will reconsider my desire to sue if you change the title of your menu section to read "have some bad fish."
5. I tried to bowl with the pins and half of a bowling ball glued to the wall in the sports of yesteryear decorated section and failed to get a strike.
I had been talking up my bowling game to my dining companions all night long. So after a couple Mudslides, I decided to show my friends exactly what I was about.
No sooner had I kicked the triangular drink display and salt shaker out of my way and stepped up onto the table of our booth to grab the pins and ball handily available on the wall above me, than the waiter I asked out two weeks ago began to make his way over, frantically waving his arms.
Finally, having pried the pins and ball loose, I chucked the pins toward the kitchen (relax, I yelled "CORNER") and hurled the half-a-ball with all my might. I didn't hit a single pin. "LIZ, THIS IS THE LAST STRAW. YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME TO DINE AT THIS OR ANY OTHER APPLEBEE'S!" The natural question that any normal, entitled American would ask is why even put sporting equipment on the walls if you're going to get all huffy when someone just wants to be the cool friend for once and not always be out-shined by fucking Janice?
Some people just have no common sense.