Rebuttal Post: Have a Cow

(Candice, given the name "Jennifer" in yesterday's Have a Cow, has submitted her own version of events on that date. Candice says, "I was shocked to read Pat's story today. If it's not about me, then I don't know who else it could be about.")

Rebuttal Story Sent in by Candice:

First thing: Pat was really, really into himself, and was the sort of guy who'd twist any situation to make himself the victim or the hero. It didn't hit me until after the whole date situation. He didn't mention in his story that he had held down three jobs in less than a year, having been let go from each subsequent one because they "didn't like the way [he] did things." That's called insubordination, asshole.

We agreed on Chinese food for dinner without any of the argument that he portrayed. I hadn't even heard of Master Wok II, but I wasn't at all averse to trying it. I did ask him, "Is that a hole-in-the-wall place?" but only because I was actually curious, not because I looked down on such places. Either way, if he suggested it, I'd try it.

During that same conversation, he was, as he said, the one to inform me that Fredo's had closed. I was down about it because I had lots of great memories of Fredo's. I must have had six of my childhood birthday parties there. So yes, I might have been down about it, but I certainly didn't blame him for it closing!

At Master Wok II dinner, we sat down, and when the waters came, I drank some, did not spit it back into my glass, but did remark that it tasted like hose water. I then ordered a diet soda, and that was the end of it.

I commented on the "shoddy" table and chairs? What is this, Home Improvement? I didn't even notice! As long as the chair held me and the table held my food, they were great.

Things went downhill, actually, when Pat himself made a comment about the table. It rocked slightly, but barely enough to even notice. He shifted it back and forth, though, and asked for my napkin to stuff it under one of the legs and stabilize it. Why my napkin? I couldn't guess, but it was replaceable, so I handed it to him.

Whatever he did made the problem worse, but he sat back up and said, "There. Fixed."

I tested it out, and my glass nearly fell off the table! "It's pretty rocky," I remarked, or something like it.

"It's fine!" he snapped, way louder than necessary, "I fixed it."

He hadn't, but I wasn't in a mood to argue. I remained silent until we put in our food orders. He ordered chicken and broccoli, as he said, but I ordered the sweet and sour chicken. No salad. As for me asking if they had veal (or making that rude "Do you have that in China" comment), he's nuts.

While we waited for our food, he said, "You're mad at me. I can tell."

I replied, "I don't think that was a nice tone you used before, after... working on the table."

"Terrific," he said, then sat back as if he had me all figured out, "Now you're going to be bitchy bitch for the rest of the night. There was a problem. I fixed it. You complain about it. Reminds me of some bosses I used to have. Is this a date, or am I out to dinner with my boss?"

Realizing that nothing I could do would make the situation more comfortable, I waited for a few minutes, then took out my phone, pretended to receive an emergency text, and hurried out of there before he could even ask me anything about it.

Did I send him that stupid email about finding veal? Of course not. Why would I ever want to interact with this bozo again?


(See Patrick's original post here.)