My husband and I chose an upscale restaurant to celebrate our anniversary, hoping for a memorable evening after saving up for it. Instead, we walked into chaos—deafening music, shouting guests, and an atmosphere that felt more like a crowded bar than a fine-dining experience. We tried to stay positive, but the service quickly ruined the mood. It took nearly twenty minutes to get water, and when our waitress finally arrived, she was cold and disengaged. The food only made things worse: my husband’s steak was undercooked, and my pasta tasted reheated. When we politely mentioned the issues, she brushed us off with a casual excuse about the kitchen being busy and made no effort to fix anything. She never checked on us again, leaving us disappointed on what was supposed to be a special night.

The final blow was the $250 bill, which felt unjustified given the slow service, poor food, and lack of care. I decided not to leave a tip—not out of spite, but because tipping should reflect service, not entitlement. As we stood to leave, the waitress publicly mocked me, grabbed my arm, and called me a cheapskate in front of other diners. The humiliation shook me. Friends later disagreed on whether I was right, but I stand by my choice. This wasn’t about money; it was about respect, professionalism, and accountability. I tip generously when service is good, but I refuse to reward bad behavior. Sometimes, drawing a line matters more than pleasing others.