While neither as prolonged nor physically draining as my days in a (lower-than-) minimum wage position devoid of health and safety practices, I shan't hesitate to declare this short-lived occupation as the worst job I've encountered to date. Amidst a society flooded with technological advances and the drive to constantly improve oneself, there lies a community of tight-knit, good-for-nothing tattlers that thrive off taxpaper funding. And where one cannot assimilate, he or she shall be exiled for their nonconformities.
Order placement had shifted from interaction with physical bodies to being completely electronic. An iPad was placed at the end of our table, where diners could select All-You-Can-Eat or à la carte items. For the most part, Spring operated in a manner similar to Hana, just simply without the small-scale monorail.
Sashimi cuts were average at best, as was the presentation of our orders. Stray sesame seeds and random squirts of mayonnaise were not appreciated. The provided starter salad and miso soup were decent, though the rice proved tremendously dry.
Ginger slices and wasabi were also of mediocre quality: the former hadn't undergone sufficient pickling, while the latter was mushy and lacked pungency.
Washrooms were not visited on this occasion, and therefore no comments can be made in that regard.
The broth was as scalding as it was spicy, though I could be mistaken as my throat had seemed to suffer burning sensations with most anti-flammatory liquids as of late.
The Kimchi Fried Rice was the sole item I voluntarily opted of of trying. Even a small swipe of the kimchi-tossed grains lit my mouth ablaze. It was apparent that I would be unable to tolerate such a monster.