Okay, so the "would you like a box for that" thing happed a third time (this week!), this time at Timbers. Halfway through my stupid burger, and the guy, same guy waits on me all the time, asks me if I need a box. Geez! I mean, okay, I wasn't wolfing it down. I wasn't feeling that well, and my appetite was only so-so. But it wasn't like I was just sitting and staring at it, either. And this is a restaurant I go to all the time--literally several times a week, because I'm that much of a no-imagination creature of habit loser--and I have never failed to clean my plate. And they know this. (Well, they also know that I'm never hungry enough for dessert, but I think I tip well--more than 20%, usually--so screw 'em.) So I am forced to accept the fact that I really am becoming a slow eater.

Next time, I think I may just tell them up front that I'm a slow eater, and that if I need a box, I will let them know, because the way this is happening every time I go out to eat is getting kind of irritating.