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
2 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.
My favourite is getting I.D.'ed when ordering that glass of wine on a seperate check. Though an apparent compliment, it is usually asked in such a rude tone that I can't help but feel like I am an underage drinker attempting to fool my 40 year old waitress. Seriously, c'mon. And what's with the "we don't do seperate checks" thing? You don't know how to write "wine" on one piece of your notepad and "pasta special" on the other?? Huh??
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