Random Acts of Thoughtlessness
I just lived through bad food service hell this weekend. Now, I could probably do with not eating for two weeks to put a dent in the poundage, but I just expect a little service. Meal and food prices are slowly creeping up, and wait staff are evidently getting their brains sucked out by zombies.
On Friday night at dinner, the waitress was giving me the “mother-mocking wise-ass ridicule”, even though SHE forgot to bring my pre-meal salad. Unfortunately, I could see it sitting like a crown jewel on the stainless steel out-window ledge. I slept on that one, only to awaken to Round Two…
At breakfast inside this lovely, everything-you-could-ask-for-in-a-breakfast place, was lurking another episode. We were so digging our laid-back experience, when our orders appeared at our table. The owner even brought out the plates. But, alas, I ordered a side of bacon with my blueberry pancakes. No bacon!
I was being barraged with butter, syrup, jams, jellies, and cheese – but NO BACON. After slowly eating most of my pancakes, my original waitress showed up to refill the coffee. When I mentioned my bacon, she patted me on my bald head and said, “Does the little boy need his bac-ee?”
My wife and our friends thought that was odd (I thought it was just a tad bit patronizing). Needless to say: Great place, tasty food, miniscule tip-ola.
To round out the trifecta of terrible service, Sunday after church our family went for breakfast/brunch at Jimmy’s Egg – normally an ol’ reliable doo-dah deal – but the zombies had struck there also. It was crowded, I’ll give ‘em that, BUT there was no excuse for three of our party getting their food 10 minutes before the other three. After all, it’s just breakfast, not some gourmet rooty-cadoody fancy food. Good grief, it’s pancakes or scrambled eggs!
The two-and-a-half-year-old was bacon-in-the-belly ready to split. Now, an enjoyable Kodak moment breakfast turned into a “keep the kid engaged” game, and half of us are feeling bad about eating at a normal rate. Peer pressure or rowdy tot pressure, it’s no way to spend a lovely Sunday morn.
Does this really matter in the big scheme of things? Maybe not. But do I dare order extra cheese or no onions on my Taco Bueno order? Not unless I wear my Yankee ball cap and a bullet-proof vest!
OK, I admit I’ll probably eat at these places again, but only under an assumed name…
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