My paternal uncle is a selfish ass.
Decades ago, he showed up in the Triad and demanded that Dad pick him up (Dad was an assistant professor working towards tenure - he wasn’t leaving work for 3-4 hours to pick up anyone in a non-emergency situation). My uncle asked, “Can P come get me?” My Dad: “She works, too. If you can get to Chapel Hill, you have a place to stay with us.”
Supper is one of our usual late ‘60’s/early ‘70’s boring meals: pork chops, applesauce, green peas, and a big salad (iceberg lettuce, cucumber, green bell pepper, and carrots). A big salad had been and still is a supper staple since the early ‘60’s.
We sit down and my uncle announces he is a vegetarian. Mom promptly says, “Have more peas.” He won’t pass the platter that has pork chops on it; so, soon, Mom positions it directly in front of him.
I’ve been a vegetarian. I’ll happily eat a lot of sides. If I didn’t tell you ahead of time that I’m a vegetarian, I’d eat whatever you served.
If I did tell you, I’d expect maybe one additional side or a BIG salad. I’ve often said, “Has everyone had enough salad? Because if you have, I’m eating the rest.”