Don’t Change My Order

I just could not make some of the crazy things that happen to me up. Today’s story is all true, I would not blame you if you swore I made this up, but I have two witnesses who can vouch for every word.
I went to lunch with Hannah and Elizabeth at a casual spot in Chapel Hill where the food is all displayed, you wait in line, order, pay and take a number to your table and await it’s arrival. Since Hannah is a busy working woman we did not have all day. We all ordered individually each getting some variation of the same sampler lunch that involved a server scooping a spoonful of one salad or another from the prepared platters and putting it on a plate.
We got our drinks and waited, eventually Hannah’s lunch arrived and her plastic number on a stand was whisked away. A few minutes later Elizabeth’s plate was placed in front of her and her number was removed. As the minutes ticked by I encouraged my friends to eat their lunch, certainly mine could not be far behind. But I was wrong.
After at least twenty minutes a manager type girl came by looking for my number 30 and brought me a new receipt and said to me, “I changed your order and it will be here.”  
I looked quizzically at her and asked why she had changed my order? She could not really give me a straight answer. Had some diet gods reached down and thought I needed a different lunch than the one I had already picked out and paid for. I showed the manager my original receipt and explained exactly what I ordered, with no special requests. She told me my lunch was on her. “Fine,” I said, but I really just would like the lunch I already paid for, let’s deal with that first. She did not seem to understand what I ordered so I walked her over to the glass counter and pointed to the three platters I ordered from. She promised me I would get my lunch right away and it was on her.
Back to the table with my friends politely not eating their lunches. We waited and waited. Servers passed by with lots of other people’s lunches but not mine. Really, three scoops and I could have my plate, nothing had to be cooked. I finally went into full on Dana Lange Mode and found that manager. “This is ridiculous.” I told her. her response was, “your lunch is one me.” 
“Really,” I said, “so far I have not gotten any lunch and you have not given me any money back.” She spoke to a line cook behind the counter who found my number thirty ticket about 20 tickets from the top and finally scooped out my salads while I stood at the counter waiting to serve myself.
The manger eventually brought over a $20 bill which I had to make change for in order for her to give me the right amount of money. She kept saying she was sorry, which had worn very thin and was making me feel bad. I know you are sorry, but honestly scooping three salads on to a plate is not that hard to get right in a ten minute window, but I a thirty minute window it is inexcusable. I am still at a loss to understand why she was changing my lunch and brought me a new receipt to begin with. Do these things happen to other people or are the blog gods just giving me something to write about?