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FW: An Unfortunate Experience at La Scala

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Welcome back to the Eater Complaints Dept. where Eater readers are invited to vent, gripe or praise at will. Got something to say? We're here for you.

From: One very upset LA eater
Date: Tuesday, May 12
To: Eater Complaints Dept.
Subject: An Unfortunate Experience at La Scala

To Whom It May Concern,

If there was ever to be a RESTAURANT POLICE and this organization had the power to revoke a restaurants ability to serve atrocious food with a side of disrespectful and patronizing service, then this organization should immediately shut down the doors of La Scala in Beverly Hills located at 434 N Canon Dr. In my 35 years of living and dining in Southern California I have never been so insulted and disgusted by a restaurant experience as I was last Friday night at La Scala. I will let you be the judge of whether I am overacting or not?

My wife and I decided to take our friend from out of town to somewhere we hadn't been to in years, ironically we quickly were to recall the reason for our past dismissal of La Scala. We sat down, only to be barely acknowledged by an arrogant waiter who clearly indicated through his demeanor that he rather be anywhere other than our table to take our order. His behavior was quickly commented on by my friend, who already had the preconceived notion that Los Angeles is the proud home of bad hospitality. I decided to ignore his comment and attempt to not let the waiter ruin my experience.

I proceeded to order the Capellini Primavera, and as I always have, requested it to be a little spicy. 20 minutes later I did indeed get a Capellini Primavera, laced with a lethal amount of chili flakes. After a small coughing and choking tantrum that I couldn't help but throw, I asked my wife and my friend to taste it as well. After 2 additional votes that the dish was INEDIBLE, I called the waiter over. After I placed my complaint to the waiter, he proceeded to stare at me like I was a moron, after which he explained that he couldn't return any dish without his manager’s approval. SIDE NOTE** At no point did he empathize with the fact that I almost choked to death by the level of spices in my dish.** So we called over the manager, [redacted], the ever so pompous, self-righteous, son of a gun who never apologized for my dish but proceed to speak to me as if I were a child. Asking me if I had ever dined there before? As if the answer YES would rationalize the ridiculousness of my experience thus far. Then he told me that they have a no return policy. At which point my friend had enough of his monologue and began to speak in my defense (as if I needed to even defend the fact that my food was uneatable and absurdly over spiced) at which point [redacted] turned around and told him to basically shut up as this wasn't any of his business. My dish was not taken back to the kitchen, I was charged for the plate of garbage, and I was never even given a simple apology.

One very upset LA Eater.