There are few experiences in life as surreal as watching the basic act of procuring breakfast descend into something that can only be described as performance art in mismanagement. My tale begins innocently enough—a quick breakfast with the lad. Foolishly optimistic, as it turns out.

After a full hour of waiting, during which I contemplated the quiet absurdity of life itself, I was informed that not only was the bagel flavor I had requested now out of stock, but all other backup flavors were gone as well. Not a word of this was shared during the long wait. Merely an offhand remark that felt more like a punchline to a cruel joke. The staff, it seems, had fully embraced the role of indifferent spectators, offering just a vacant stare and a subtle air of “We had online orders.”

Mind you, the phones rang in vain, as the staff stood resolute in their refusal to acknowledge them, as if they were delicate artifacts from some forgotten era. And yet, the scene became almost theatrical, with frustrated customers arriving in person, their faces etched with bewilderment of those who had been repeatedly ignored, demanded to know why their calls are being ignored. Parents struggled to console screaming children. And the booth I sat in was a veritable tableau of neglect; crumbs and beard hair or what was the resemblance of pubic hair.

To complete this farce, the owners—true masters of deflection—are known to greet criticism not with an apology, but with scorn, as though the real problem lies not in their gross inefficiency but in the audacity of customers who dare to expect service. A fascinating stance, really. Read the reviews for yourself.

And then, there was the muffin. My partner, who had the misfortune of ordering this small, overpriced tragedy, was presented with a $10 dry, crumbly brick masquerading as baked goods. For ten dollars, one expects a muffin with at least a passing resemblance to moisture. Alas, it was not to be. (Perhaps this explains the crumb-obsessed booth). Furthermore, his hot breakfast sandwich that contained only 3 ingredients was cold by the time it was retrieved from the amusingly understaffed kitchen.

So, if you seek a breakfast experience that involves waiting an hour for nothing, dodging the wails of children, and witnessing an impromptu gathering of the ignored, all while being treated with utter indifference, you’ve found your culinary home. For the rest of us, I’d recommend seeking nourishment elsewhere—perhaps in a place where answering the phone and offering edible food aren’t considered unreasonable requests.