On Saturday, we stopped at the Village Inn with our friends to have a hearty meal before our day of skiing. I knew I wanted a skillet. When made properly, it’s a cast iron skillet full of diced potatoes and vegetables, and topped with eggs and melted cheese – like the one in the photo but without meat. It arrives at your table hot. Delicious.

I opened up the menu, and saw that every skillet had meat in it. I chose the one closest to what I wanted, “The Original Ultimate Skillet Meal,” and asked the waiter to make it without the meat (ham, bacon AND sausage) and without mushrooms. Steven decided he wanted the exact same thing, but without onions as well (he was getting over a very bad stomach virus, and the last thing he needed was onions in his food).

The waiter wasn’t too happy with us. Let me preface this by saying that when we greeted him and asked how he was, he said “we’re really busy.” Okay. So we made our decisions quickly and said please and thank you.

The waiter gave us a really dirty look when we asked for modifications to the menu. Then he told us that they “really can’t change orders like that” and “there are lots of other options – you need to look over the entire menu and see if there is something else you want.”

Um… what?

He told us that, then quickly took our friends orders, all of our menus, and left.

I sat there wondering how I was supposed to look for something different to eat without a menu. I wondered if he was going to come back and tell me I had to choose something else to eat. I also wondered if I should be ashamed or pissed off. I was definitely a little bit of both.

I am WELL AWARE of how much I inconvenience EVERYONE by being a vegetarian. I feel awful when someone invites me over for dinner and I feel like I have to warn them that I am a vegetarian. I hate it that we couldn’t have Caesar salad in Denver because the dressing had anchovies in it and I didn’t want to eat it. I feel horrible when we have to make sure the restaurant has something that Steven and I can eat before we all go there.

I hate that some people who eat meat automatically assume that I think I am better than them. I don’t. Honestly – I don’t give a shit what you eat.

But apparently, some people do care what I eat. And not in a considerate way. And I’m not just talking about the waiter.

I’m not going to change. This is who I am. I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed to make requests, especially at a “restaurant.”

But I did feel ashamed. Ashamed, uneasy and embarrassed, sitting there with our friends. Of course, if it would have been just me and Steven, I would probably have talked to a manager or left. Instead, we sat there worrying about how our meal was going to come out.

We got what we ordered. It didn’t taste that good, and I had lost my appetite.

The waiter came back with the check and tried to redeem himself by saying the people in the kitchen don’t speak English that well. If that was his excuse, why didn’t he just say that in the beginning?

I don’t know why I am still thinking about this on Thursday. Probably because I am still embarrassed about the whole thing. I feel like it was unnecessary for the waiter to act that way… but it still makes ME feel bad. It makes me feel bad for asking for something to be modified.

Maybe I am asking too much. Or maybe I should just stay out of Village Inn and all the other restaurants that give me grief.