It's late. You are hungry and everything is closed. Look up. You're in IHOP.
How did you get here?
Don't worry about it. A dejected waitress will lead you to a stained booth with a slightly sticky table.
Get a coffee. Yes, it's mediocre, but it's late. There's nothing else to choose from.
Ask the waitress if there is red #40 in the strawberry topping.
"What's that a dye or something, hunny?"
"Yes."
"Probably. Everything is processed here", said the waitress in the same tone as if to?say "do you want the slop or not, piggy?"
You do want the slop. You are desperate. It's late.
Order something.
It's gonna be bland or slightly plastic-y tasting. It's better than the emptiness that was there before.
Your waitress keeps the drinks filled and stops by a few times. She does the minimum without a smile or kind word. You wonder if this is standard service or if something happened to her.
You get up to pay and see a customer loudly complain that his takeout meal costs too much (it doesn't). The waitress calmly responds to this nonsense, gently telling him to pay or kick rocks.
Now you understand the joyless waitress and just hope to make it out of the restaurant without laughing in the face of Complaint Man when he asks the waitress:
"Can you break a $50?"