More adventures in customer service
If you are going to be smug and self righteous, you’d better be perfect. I don’t even remember the name of the restaurant I ate at last night but it’s worth mentioning. After driving around downtown Burlington last night looking for a parking spot I finally settled on one about four blocks away from the Church St, pedestrian mall.
I finished the Afghanistan book yesterday so my first stop was to find a new dinner companion. After reading a couple of heavy books recently, Ghost Wars, and From Beirut to Jerusalem, I needed something decidedly lighter and so for the next week or so I will be spending meal time with Bill Bryson and his collection of columns I’m a Stranger Here Myself. It’s a collection of writings for a British newspaper about his adjustment to life back in the US after nearly 20 years in England.
On my way to the book store I came across a lively little place off of Church St, and thought that every one looked like they were having a good time so I would return for dinner. I was seated and I waited. I waited, but it was ok because I was with Bill and he was telling me about the differences between the US Postal Service and British Royal Mail. From personal experience I can tell you the differences are many.
When I finally had the opportunity to speak with April about my choices I ordered Maura’s fabulous salad, which, with a name like that, seemed too good not to order. I said that I would like to wait a little before deciding on my entree but I would like a glass of wine and would it be too much trouble to have it on a separate check.
“We don’t do separate checks.” Replied April smugly. “Besides you’re just one person, just pay for it separately.”
“I’d rather have two checks please, because I want a glass of wine, but I don’t want to charge it to my expenses.” I say pleadingly. April reluctantly relented and assured me that she would separate my food and drink.
Bill is a great dinner companion, funny, insightful and maybe a little sarcastic, but a great story teller. Bill is such a great dinner companion that I didn’t notice that my fabulous salad was taking an age to arrive. My wine came, my water glass was filled and a small plate of bread magically appeared, but no fabulous salad. After a while, about 30 minutes, I caught on and wondered if Boris was in the kitchen. Fifteen more minutes passed and my entree arrived in the shape of very tasty little burger. I had passed on the baked pasta as it was laden with mushrooms.
I continued to enjoy my wine and the burger was very tasty, but I couldn’t help but wonder where my fabulous salad ended up and if it would end up on my bill. April returned much later to ask me how things tasted. “Great I told her, this is a tasty burger. But I was also looking forward to my salad.” April looked at me with great puzzlement.
“Salad?”
“Yes, the fabulous salad, I ordered it with my wine.”
“Oh yes, well I’ll get that started for you right away.”
“Perhaps I will pass.”
While I was waiting for my separate checks I constructed a rough estimate of the number of meals I eat in restaurants every year, I think it averages about 500 or so. Sometimes I wonder if I am becoming Sally-esque (When Harry Met Sally) in my dinning demands, I’d like the wine if I can have it on a separate check, I’d like the pasta if I can get it without mushrooms, I’ll take the soup if I can get it without out your finger, thumb, hair or booger. I may be too demanding, but I don’t think so.
I finished the Afghanistan book yesterday so my first stop was to find a new dinner companion. After reading a couple of heavy books recently, Ghost Wars, and From Beirut to Jerusalem, I needed something decidedly lighter and so for the next week or so I will be spending meal time with Bill Bryson and his collection of columns I’m a Stranger Here Myself. It’s a collection of writings for a British newspaper about his adjustment to life back in the US after nearly 20 years in England.
On my way to the book store I came across a lively little place off of Church St, and thought that every one looked like they were having a good time so I would return for dinner. I was seated and I waited. I waited, but it was ok because I was with Bill and he was telling me about the differences between the US Postal Service and British Royal Mail. From personal experience I can tell you the differences are many.
When I finally had the opportunity to speak with April about my choices I ordered Maura’s fabulous salad, which, with a name like that, seemed too good not to order. I said that I would like to wait a little before deciding on my entree but I would like a glass of wine and would it be too much trouble to have it on a separate check.
“We don’t do separate checks.” Replied April smugly. “Besides you’re just one person, just pay for it separately.”
“I’d rather have two checks please, because I want a glass of wine, but I don’t want to charge it to my expenses.” I say pleadingly. April reluctantly relented and assured me that she would separate my food and drink.
Bill is a great dinner companion, funny, insightful and maybe a little sarcastic, but a great story teller. Bill is such a great dinner companion that I didn’t notice that my fabulous salad was taking an age to arrive. My wine came, my water glass was filled and a small plate of bread magically appeared, but no fabulous salad. After a while, about 30 minutes, I caught on and wondered if Boris was in the kitchen. Fifteen more minutes passed and my entree arrived in the shape of very tasty little burger. I had passed on the baked pasta as it was laden with mushrooms.
I continued to enjoy my wine and the burger was very tasty, but I couldn’t help but wonder where my fabulous salad ended up and if it would end up on my bill. April returned much later to ask me how things tasted. “Great I told her, this is a tasty burger. But I was also looking forward to my salad.” April looked at me with great puzzlement.
“Salad?”
“Yes, the fabulous salad, I ordered it with my wine.”
“Oh yes, well I’ll get that started for you right away.”
“Perhaps I will pass.”
While I was waiting for my separate checks I constructed a rough estimate of the number of meals I eat in restaurants every year, I think it averages about 500 or so. Sometimes I wonder if I am becoming Sally-esque (When Harry Met Sally) in my dinning demands, I’d like the wine if I can have it on a separate check, I’d like the pasta if I can get it without mushrooms, I’ll take the soup if I can get it without out your finger, thumb, hair or booger. I may be too demanding, but I don’t think so.
posted by Rob Shaer at 7:37 AM
1 Comments:
Hi Rob
All I can say is if the British Post is anything like the American, your post will never see the daylight!
Great blog, and will be back to visit.
Noodles.
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