This week, Wing and I were busy so we didn’t cook. We either ate out or ate leftovers. (There will be restaurant posts soon.) So this Friday Failure is about a customer who assumed. And you know what they say about assume: it makes an a** out of you and me.

Saturday morning Wing suggested going to Busters Beach House in Seaport Village. We’d been there once before, and we really liked it, so I was game. Last time I ordered their Down-Island French Toast: “thick egg bread hand dipped in cinnamon ginger batter and grilled to a golden brown, topped with sliced banana, and toasted coconut” which was beautiful tropical island sunshine in your mouth. I planned to order that again, but when I saw the Griddle Combination and saw that I could have the French Toast with eggs and my choice of meat, I went for that.

You see, I assumed that it would be the same French Toast since that’s the only type listed on their menu. But when the waiter put the plate in front of me, I saw that it was plain old, regular French Toast that I could have made at home. (Disclaimer: their French Toast is so much better than my French Toast… I was trying my hand at a hyperbole.) I was sorely disappointed. But it was my fault for assuming. I should have asked so I could have had the amazing and exotic French Toast as opposed to the good but normal French Toast. Well, next time I know.

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