A blogger's wet dream

A few days ago I revealed what print journalists dream about. Last night I found out what causes nocturnal bliss for a blogger. I dreamed that I went to a popular pizza/sandwich shop for lunch and ordered some kind of pasta that came with a choice of side dish. The guy behind the counter, without asking me, started to put a green salad on my plate, and I interrupted him with "I don't like that salad, I want the steamed vegetables." Twelve or twenty minutes go by (who knows in a dream?) and I realize that people have been moving past me in the line while my plate of food sits on the counter unattended. I finally say something to the guy at the cash register, and he says, "Oh, we decided not to serve you because you said something negative about our salad in front of the other customers." I'm shocked, and I ask, "You weren't even going to tell me? You would have let me stand here forever if I didn't ask what's going on?" "That's right," the guy says with a sneer. I'm outraged by this treatment, and by the fact that my lunch hour is over and I haven't eaten anything, but as I leave the restaurant I'm suddenly cheered. I'll blog about the incident! They'll be sorry they mistreated me when hundreds -- no, thousands of potential customers read my blog and decide to boycott the restaurant. In fact, my post about Panacea Pizza, or whatever it's called, will bring thousands -- no, a couple hundred thousand new readers to my blog. And one day, I'll walk back into the restaurant showing them my stats. They'll be mystified because none of them of heard of the Internet, but in some dim way they'll realize that I had something to do with their descent into bankruptcy. Sadly, I woke up before I could take my revenge. But I've always believed in dreams as a guide to behavior, so I guess I'll have to start looking for abusive pizzeria staff in order to write the greatest bitchy blog post ever. Suggestions welcome.