I thought ordering a children’s meal would be the easiest decision I made that evening. I was dining alone after a long day, and I knew I wanted something small rather than a full entrée. When the server approached, I politely asked for the grilled chicken kids’ meal. She hesitated, glanced toward the manager, and quietly told me that children’s meals were only available to customers under twelve.
I smiled and offered to pay whatever price they required, but the manager came over and repeated the rule. His tone made several nearby customers look in my direction. Suddenly, something as ordinary as ordering dinner felt embarrassing. I explained that I simply could not eat a large portion and did not want food wasted. Instead of offering another option, he pointed toward the adult menu and said, “You’re an adult. You need to order like one.” Then an older woman at the next table stood up and asked him one question.
