Two part blog! It's like you're getting the range of human experience only in a limited way!
Part One: Where I Lament the Common Man
There was an election Tuesday, and, as usual, it didn’t matter that I voted, or that I cared, or that I hoped people would come to their ever-loving moderate senses for once in their lives (they won’t.) I’ve never missed an election, even when it was me holding a toddler, a baby, and facing down 3 elderly folks.
Another 2-6 years represented by people who won’t represent me, and, in fact, do their best to embarrass me at every possible moment. At least this wasn’t the 2004 election, when I cried for days and couldn’t get out of bed. Not a joke, although we can turn it into one: what do you get the girl who got another 4 years of a man she found the antithesis of all her values? An E.U. passport!
And this also wasn’t the election of 2008, when I wrote this post and half of my readers unsubscribed. You won’t unsubscribe, will you? I need you, even though most of you statistically voted differently than I did. I’ll still be civil, I just need to sniffle a little (you understand, right? Of course you understand! Barack Obama is still your President and statistically you’re sniffly about it!)
Part Two: Where I Turn on the Common Man
But all that misanthropic sorrow was yet to befall me when I left to meet Susie for her birthday dinner that night at a restaurant to which I’ve never been. I’d heard good things, so I was looking forward to the experience. The food was fine (my entree fine, the creme brulee curdled,) but the service was unbelievably bad.
I arrived late (VOTING) and snugged in next to Tiffany. She’d ordered two cheese plates for the table which had been consumed before I arrived. She flashed me a look and told me that she’d asked some questions about the Camembert that the menu advertised before ordering. The server said, “The what?”
“The Camembert. What can you tell me about it?”
“You mean the Brie?”
“No, it said the Camembert.”
“We don’t have that.”
“But, it says right here...”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tiffany pointed at the menu.
That was when some smart girl at the table spoke up and said, “She’s talking about the Camem-BERT”
“Oh! The Camem-BERT!”
It didn’t get much better. Like when Tiffany tried to pay for herself and Susie because she had to leave early. 20 minutes after she gave the server her card, he returned with ALL the bills and hers still not run.
The bills were all mixed up, people charged for things others had ordered, people charged for things they never ordered--and everyone charged 1/8th and 1/8th for the two cheese plates that Tiffany ordered. This is in an empty restaurant, by the way.
“Well,” he said, “Sorry. You all moved around so much I don’t know who had what. I can’t run them again after I’ve already run them. So, if you could just mark on your bill what’s right and wrong and then I’ll run them through.” And then he left.
Yes. I had to break out a pen to cross out the 1/8th and 1/8th of cheese plates I was charged for, cheese plates I had not even arrived early enough to consume.
When one friend brought up that she was charged for a dessert that another had ordered, the server suggested that the original dessert-orderer simply pay my friend in cash later.
Tiffany appeared to be on the verge of homicide. I flagged down the server and explained (AND WROTE on the bill) that Tiffany should be charged for both cheese plates, Susie’s meal, and that he needed to close out her bill immediately. He started to explain something and I cut him off--”Please run it now. Thank you.”
He scurried off to run Tiffany’s card (a short 40 minutes after she first gave him the card.) Here’s a shot of her new and improved bill, in case you’re interested:
As a former server, I was embarrassed for him! And also annoyed by him!
Just like you are with President Obama!
Now, let's all hug.