It’s Not the Waiter’s Fault

There is nothing better than waking up on a Monday morning to cloudy, wet and muggy weather conditions.  Maybe running out of coffee, a major headache coming on and that time of the month ranks pretty high. <–insert the usual eye roll here. This day would not be complete without the a recap of the Father’s Day “festivities.”  Waking up at three o’clock yesterday morning should have been my first clue.  If you don’t know chronic insomnia is the norm for me, though lately I’ve been able to overcome my early wake up call by going to bed later at night.  Not a solution to four hours of sleep, but hey beggars can’t be choosers.

So…..being the good wife I am, I made the hubby breakfast in bed on his special day, which he devoured, and with good reason.  After going back and forth since earlier in the week he finally made up his mind as to where he wanted to go for dinner.  It was not only a father’s Day dinner, but a belated birthday dinner for one of my sons.  Ordinarily one would think, so what’s the big deal?  Well, trying to juggle three work schedules and settling on a seven forty-five reservation at a popular restaurant on a “holiday,” where they do no not take reservations; should have been clue two!  A last-minute addition turning our party of four into a party of five upped the ante, and people wonder why I didn’t want to go out to eat on Mother’s Day, HA!

Come on Kat, you have to be a trooper; forget the fact you haven’t had a single thing to eat all day, maybe a snack but nothing remotely close to a meal.  Jumping forward, finally we arrive at (the place I shall not name) and lo and behold it’s the line from hell outside; no surprise there.  Good thing we called ahead to put our name on the list, haha.  Then came clue three, “it will be about twenty to twenty-five minutes until we can seat your party.”  This is also where you look around to see who arrived later than you and gets seated earlier.

Forty minutes and my blood sugar level is bottoming out, we FINALLY get seated, then ten minutes after that our waiter arrives…..clue four!  The look on his face, the forceful smile.  You can always tell when people force it.  The teeth clenching grin, poised yet on the verge of loosing it. I just want a soda, hubby a beer, my younger son a soda too and older son’s girlfriend, some pink soda drink and a glass of water; then my older son…(exhale). Inquiring about beer types that are clearly not listed on the front page of the menu finally settles on a Pomegranate Margarita, oh and a soda???  Ten more minutes go by before our drinks arrive and I’m asking or thinking loudly perhaps, “where’s the damn bread?”  The great bread debate is followed by more waiting, the taking of orders and an important word of advice from our waiter on the proper way of using a shaker to refill your glass of margarita.  Someone wasn’t paying attention in school that day; and your punishment for not listening to the “teachers” directions is…….a lap full of icy, wet liquid!  Is that clue five, I’ve lost count?
THIRTY minute pass, our salads finally arrive, which are gone in record-breaking time, along with two baskets of bread.  The gracious waiter informs us that our food is up next on the screen and apologies for the delay, AGAIN.  I look over at hubby and mumble something about the advantages of take-out dinning on “holidays,” something we have done many times in the past on these type of days.

Ah the food, the wait is finally over; right about five minutes after a strangely familiar smell of a baby in need of a diaper change fills the air near our table (I am so not making this up!!)  Each plate is placed on the table and I’m looking to see if all this was worth the end results.  I’m not pessimistic, I’m just realistic.  Medium-rare was medium, medium was well done and resembled a burnt shard on a children’s menu, and when the marbling on a piece of meat is more than the meat itself those are all not good signs.  A dilemma??  Now what?  There was no way in hell anyone of us was going to have the food sent back and wait even longer!!  On any other given day I would have without hesitation!


Money (Photo credit: 401(K) 2013)

In the end and well over one hundred dollars later, a painful lesson is learned.  The last clue, it’s not the waiter’s fault, it’s ours!  The bright side….they didn’t screw up the ribs! Kat~


About magyarok27

Just ask.....
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