Forget the breadstick.
If you sit down at a restaurant and see nothing tempting on the menu, and you hate sitting there in its unflattering lighting, and restaurant regret starts seeping in—exit the premises. It doesn't matter that you sipped the water. It doesn't matter that you ate a breadstick. Forget the breadstick. Leave. This is your life. This is your only ever February 23, 2014 (or whatever day it is), your only ever dinner out tonight.