A number of years ago, a vegetarian friend and I regrettably went to a now-defunct restaurant in Berkeley. He ordered a veggie-cheese omelet, described in the menu as coming with assorted vegetables and three kinds of cheese. When the waitress brought his meal, there was no cheese to be found. He called the waitress over and politely pointed this out. She said, “I don’t care. It’s not my problem. If you don’t like it, go talk to the cook.” Fascinated, I followed my friend into the kitchen where he pointed out the lack of cheese. The cook said, “That’s a misprint in the menu; the veggie-cheese omelet does not really come with cheese.” After a long and constantly escalating argument between my friend saying, “How can a veggie-cheese omelet not come with cheese!” and the cook ranting about the misprint in the menu, the cook finally made him a new omelet with cheese — which my friend, daringly in my opinion since he didn’t see this utterly nasty man prepare it, actually ate. We left a minuscule tip.