Is there any more accurate microcosm of our fucked up nation than The Cheesecake Factory?
A place inhabited by guys in beige Docker pants with clip on cell phones, and SUV driving moms with their, "He's really advanced for his age" little brats.
The staff running around in their Aryan Nation white outfits, disingenuously telling you that your choice of sandwich is "their favorite too".
Every time I look at that spiral bound thick menu, I think to myself "Can the line cooks really manage ALL of these dishes?"
When the platters arrive, because really that's what they are. There's enough food to feed four. And you wonder why there is a breed of fatso's constantly trying to get their soda refill.
Next to us an old lady insisted that her coffee had too much caffeine in it. The robotic waitress who had earlier delivered a massive gravy boat of Ranch dressing to our table, just smiled at the old bitch and took it away. 2 minutes there was new coffee plus free dessert coupons. Because heaven help the 'Factory' if corporate gets a whiff that some old cooze was disappointed with her cup of coffee.
My darling mother-in-law asked me how I would categorize the decor. Unimaginative Corporate American Eatery was my silent reply. Probably 'created' by the same hack who did Panera.