Dining Out

I had a little trouble at the drive-through window of a fast-food place one morning this week. The voice on the other end of the magical speaker goofed up my order, and when I corrected her she got a little snippy with me. I felt kind of foolish arguing with a speaker and a display screen, but at least I got a straw to go with my iced coffee.

In a fast-food environment, particularly with the faceless speaker box, there isn’t the same personal connection you get with a slow-food restaurant (as my kids used to call them). When you have a waiter or a server they are with you for a longer period of time and hence should have a greater interest in your well-being; at least in theory.

There’s a restaurant in town I frequent because they have a bar where I can sit and eat my lunch, drink my iced tea, read the paper, watch eight TVs, and listen to music being played through speakers above my head. I only do this when I am alone, for it would certainly be rude to be so distracted with a dining partner.

I had a meeting in town the other night so I had supper there. The bar stools were filled with people I didn’t recognize (the regular lunch crowd had shuffled out). I took a spot at a booth but I felt a little out of place. I couldn’t see the TVs very well, and the music was hard to hear, and although I brought a book to read, it wasn’t the same as reading the paper.

When I was finished and ready to leave the server brought my receipt and said,
“You guys have a nice day.” I looked around to make sure that someone hadn’t slipped into my booth unnoticed. Not seeing anyone I considered that perhaps there was a character sitting with me that only the server could see – kind of Elwood P. Dowd (the character Jimmy Steward played in “Harvey”) – only different. I left a large enough tip to cover both of our meals, just to be on the safe side.

The wait staffs in restaurants have it tough. I’ve never been a waiter and am quite sure I don’t have the patience for it. Also, servers are expected to anticipate a customer’s needs and satisfy them before they are requested. For example, water, menus, and condiments are usually brought to the table automatically, but not silverware. In some restaurants you must ask for it.

I was eating lunch some time ago with my friend Jeff. He and I try to get together once a month for lunch, and it was my turn to drive to his town. He selected a restaurant at a golf course. It was a fancy place: linen napkins and table cloths, lead crystal goblets filled with water, black menus with gold tassels – the whole she-bang.

After we ordered the waitress brought our salads, which were included with our lunch (you get that kind of treatment at your fancier places). With food now in front of us we looked around the table but we couldn’t find any silverware – no forks, knives or spoons – nothing. We waited patiently and tried several times to get our server’s attention but still no silverware.

Jeff may have started it, or it could have been me, but one of us picked up a crouton with our fingers and put it in our mouth, then another and another. Pretty soon both of us were picking up all the croutons on the salad, even the ones with dressing on them. After that we grabbed the lettuce with our fingers as well. In between bites and bouts of laughter I asked him, “What kind of town do you live in where you have to eat a salad with your fingers?”

Within a few minutes the waitress brought the rest of our lunch. By then we had attracted some attention from the other tables.

“Do you think we could have some silverware for the rest of our meal?” Jeff asked her.

“It looks to me like you’re both doing just fine without it,” she said with a huff as she turned her back on us.

Maybe I should just stick to the drive-through window – at least there you get a straw.

Check please.