OK, check this out -- I'm in Hartford, Connecticut for work and have just come back from dinner at my hotel restaurant. The restaurant was pretty much exactly what you would expect -- mediocre food, decent but not great, with a pretty standard menu. Very average decor. In fact, the place is very pedestrian in every respect. With that in mind, this exchange between the patrons at a nearby table and my waitress perked me up:
Waitress: Are you ready to order?
Customer: I have a question about the chicken. Is this free-range, organic chicken?
I about spit out my wine. Free-range organic chicken? At a place like this, I'd feel pretty fortunate to get actual chicken as opposed to some processed "chicken-food" or some shit like that. Unsatisfied with the answer, he proceeded to order a steak "around medium -- just a hint of pink, warm center."
Yeah, we all know what medium is, douchebag. You presume that this place might have "free-range, organic chicken," but suddenly become afraid that they may not know how to cook a steak "medium?"
Whatafool.
Gave me a good laugh, though... 
Waitress: Are you ready to order?
Customer: I have a question about the chicken. Is this free-range, organic chicken?
I about spit out my wine. Free-range organic chicken? At a place like this, I'd feel pretty fortunate to get actual chicken as opposed to some processed "chicken-food" or some shit like that. Unsatisfied with the answer, he proceeded to order a steak "around medium -- just a hint of pink, warm center."
Yeah, we all know what medium is, douchebag. You presume that this place might have "free-range, organic chicken," but suddenly become afraid that they may not know how to cook a steak "medium?"
Whatafool.
Gave me a good laugh, though...
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