The Great Brazilian BBQ Dilemma: What Would You Do If They Forgot to Charge You?

Yesterday evening, we headed out to celebrate my youngest son’s 14th birthday. Because it was his special day, he had the absolute, dictatorial power to choose the restaurant. Knowing him—a bottomless pit disguised as a teenage boy and a true, unapologetic carnivore—his choice was made in a heartbeat: a Brazilian BBQ joint. For those unfamiliar, it’s essentially a meat-lover’s paradise where the food just keeps coming until you beg for mercy.

Usually, they offer three tiers of indulgence: the regular menu, the deluxe (featuring an even wider array of premium meats), and the mega-deluxe (which throws shellfish into the mix for the true overachievers). This time around, there were no options. You got what you got—probably because it was a quiet weekday and they didn't want to fire up the lobster tank.

The Pre-Game and the Mystery Deposit

To be safe, we had reserved a table the day before. Like many restaurants these days, they required a deposit paid in advance. I completely understand this policy. It’s a necessary defense against the dreaded "no-show." Since my wife handled the booking, I had absolutely no idea what the actual deposit amount was. For all I knew, she had signed over the deed to our house.

Keeping my own recent reflections in mind, I bravely volunteered as tribute to be the designated driver. I treated myself to exactly one glorious Tripel Karmeliet to kick things off, and then relegated myself to an ocean of cola for the rest of the night.

Surviving the Meat Sweats

The concept at this place is brilliantly simple but dangerously filling. You start at an extensive salad bar to trick yourself into thinking you're healthy. Then, a massive bowl of fries arrives. And then... the main event begins. Waiters constantly circle the room like meat-wielding ninjas, carrying massive skewers of sizzling grillables and carving slices directly onto your plate.

In the beginning, the sheer volume of food comes at you way too fast. Your primal instinct is to eagerly nod "yes" to every single skewer that passes by. Beef? Yes. Pork? Yes. Chicken heart? Why not! But experience has taught me a crucial strategy: pace yourself. I knew for a fact that the grand finale of this meat marathon is a serving of warm, grilled pineapple dusted with cinnamon. It is magnificent. So, I forced myself to skip a few rounds of meat just to save room. (Though, I did have to whistle the waiter back for those incredible, smoky chorizo sausages. I have some weaknesses).

The Mix-Up of the Century

After thoroughly enjoying the legendary pineapple, I ordered a coffee and asked for the check. I was directed to the cash register at the front. When the cashier handed me the bill, it was exactly €60.

I blinked. I looked around for hidden cameras. I thought, Wow, this place is incredibly cheap! I noticed the food itself wasn't even listed with a price. But, completely unaware of how much my wife had put down for the deposit, I figured she had already paid a small fortune upfront. I happily paid the €60, tipped my hat, and skipped outside like a man who just won the lottery.

And that’s when the real party started.

I casually turned to my wife on the sidewalk and asked, "By the way, how much was that deposit you paid yesterday?" "Forty euros," she replied. I did the quick mental math. One hundred euros total. For four people. At an all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse. "Well," I said, a massive grin spreading across my face, "that is a ridiculously good deal."

The Moral Standoff

Instantly, the debate ignited. My wife, stepping into her role as the family's moral compass, realized the restaurant had made a massive mistake and was firmly convinced I needed to march straight back inside to correct it.

Myself and the boys? We took the stance of a pirate crew who had just found buried treasure. It was their administrative error! The universe was rewarding us! Let's get to the car before they realize!

Now, let me be perfectly clear: if I had looked at the bill and realized I had overpaid, you better believe I would have spun right around like an Olympic gymnast to get my money back. But going back in to voluntarily pay more? That goes against every fiber of my being.

We argued our case on the sidewalk, but as is the law of the land in most households, the wife's vote carries veto power. Happy wife, happy life... unhappy wallet.

The Aftermath (and the Stingy Discount)

So, swallowing my pride and ignoring the groans of my teenage accomplices, I reluctantly dragged my feet back inside. I approached the counter and politely asked if the bill was actually correct. Naturally, it wasn’t. They had rung up the drinks, but completely zeroed out the food. We ended up having to pay an additional €100 and change.

To their credit, they did give us a 10% discount for our honesty. But honestly? I found that a bit stingy. Wow, 10%. Don't go bankrupt on my account, guys. If I hadn't walked back through those doors, they would have had absolutely nothing! Plus, the reservation explicitly stated it was a birthday dinner. If I were the owner, I would have been so thrilled by the sheer honesty of a customer returning to pay a €100 deficit that I would have comped the birthday boy’s meal entirely.

At the end of the day, we did the right thing. The honest thing. My wife is reassured, her karma is perfectly intact, and I've (mostly) let it go. We had a fantastic meal and celebrated my son's 14th birthday in style.

But it got me thinking, and now I want to turn the question over to you guys.

Here is the ultimate dilemma: You are standing on the sidewalk. You realize the restaurant made a massive error in your favor. You have a 14-year-old and 17-year-old devil on one shoulder saying "run," and an angel wife on the other shoulder saying "go back." How would you have handled it? Be honest in the comments!

Cheers,
Peter