The Buffet Battle of 2014

In 2014, I had perfected the art of attacking buffets with ruthless efficiency. The key? Stacking. Not just food—plates. Why waste time making multiple trips when I could construct a well-balanced, multi-tiered feast in one go? It was a strategy that combined structural engineering with unapologetic gluttony, and it had never failed me.

Until Carl.

I was about four plates deep into my mission when a shadow fell over my table. I looked up to see a wiry man with a name tag that simply read “Carl.” His arms were crossed, his expression grim.

“Sir, we have a limit of two plates at a time per guest,” he said.

I blinked. Two plates? At a buffet? Where the sign clearly stated ALL YOU CAN EAT? Nowhere did it say All you can eat, but only in small, controlled increments dictated by Carl.

I gestured at my plates. “There’s no waste here,” I assured him. “Every bite will be consumed.”

“It’s about waste management,” he repeated.

Now, that set me off. I had never in my life wasted food at a buffet. I treated it like a sacred pact: you take it, you eat it. But Carl was unmoved. The way he stood there, arms crossed, trying to exert buffet dominance—I couldn’t let this stand.

Other diners had started watching. A guy in a Hawaiian shirt leaned in and muttered, “Let him stack, Carl.” A kid at the next table clutched his chicken tender, eyes wide with anticipation.

I took a deep breath and made a counteroffer. “How about this? If I clear every plate, no rules. But if I leave even a single bite, you can revoke my stacking privileges.”

Carl hesitated. He probably thought he had me. He didn’t know who he was dealing with.

So the showdown began.

I ate with the precision of a surgeon and the commitment of a man who refused to be limited by arbitrary plate restrictions. Bite after bite, I proved my point. The Hawaiian shirt guy was nodding in approval. Even the kid was invested now.

Carl watched, arms still crossed but expression shifting. By the time I put down my last fork, every plate was spotless. Not a crumb remained.

Carl sighed. “I can’t argue with that.”

And just like that, I had won. Victory tasted like unlimited dinner rolls and the sweet, sweet knowledge that I had bested the buffet system.

Lesson learned: Rules are negotiable when you have the stomach and the determination to push back.