Apparently, asking for dipping sauce is another matter altogether. We ask for dipping sauce at the beginning of the order. Garlic fingers arrive...no sauce.
Brother-in-Law: Can we get our dipping sauce, too?
Waitress: Okay. *walks off*
We watch her go back and forth into the kitchen several times. Finally, my bro-in-law asks again.
B-I-L: (still polite, but getting impatient) Hey, can we get that dipping sauce, please?
W: Sure, okay. *walks off again*
By this point, we had finished the garlic fingers and were awaiting our pizza. The waitress comes back with said pizza. Still no dipping sauce for our now finished garlic fingers.
B-I-L: Hey, what ever happened to our dipping sauce?
W: Huh? Oh, just one minute. *walks off again*
We start chowing down on the pizza, she comes by to ask us how everything is.
B-I-L: Well, we never did get that dipping sauce.
W: Oh, we don't carry any kind of dipping sauce. *and walks off*
Finally, we go to pay our bill and my bro-in-law is naturally, pissed. She walked away FOUR times with what sounded like the intention of getting our dipping sauce. And then says they don't even have any. I don't remember the details of the aftermath, but I remember my bro-in-law slamming his fist down on the counter and demanding a manager (who wasn't there). I believe we ended up getting a discount on our order. The whole fist slamming might've been a little sucky, though. Especially since it started the girl and made her jump a little.