A few weeks ago we ate a family-owned Italian restaurant. The service
there has never been great as the waitress has been known to forget
requests along the lines of more water or a soup spoon, but I'd never
found it to be horrible until a few weeks ago.
The waitress looked to be in her early 20s and had all the facial
expressions and mannerisms of a petulent teen. She told us the
specials. One was a vegetable risotto. Liking risotto rice but not
sure what the dish consisted of and liking many but not all vegetables,
I asked her to describe the special. With a straight face, she said
that she didn't know because no one had ordered it yet. She then waited
as though that answered my question. I kept looking back at her until
she suddenly looked surprised like she'd just thought of something and
said that she could go to the kitchen to find out. I nodded that I
thought that was a good idea.
She came back and told me that it was like, you know, rice, with like
vegetables. Her face was contorted with an expression that told me that
she hated vegetables and thought they were the most disgusting things in
the world. I asked what vegetables. She said, like, you know, peppers
and vegetables like that (more expressions of disgust). I know what
peppers are and like peppers, but I don't know what vegetables like
peppers are so I waited for her to continue. She didn't. Apparently
she thought that "vegetables like peppers" answered the question adequately.
I decided not to press the subject and ordered the Caesar salad with
shrimp. That was on the menu. A reasonable time later, she brought our
food. Mine was a house salad with shrimp. I asked about the Caesar,
and she told me that that's the way it comes and that they don't have
shrimp with Caesar. She was quite definite as she told me that like I'd
have to special-order shrimp with Caesar, you know. I asked to see a
menu. She disappeared to the kitchen so I got up and got myself a menu
from the hostess desk. (It was unattended.) I found the place where it
clearly says that they offer Caesar with shrimp.
When she returned, she apologized briefly and insincerely and brought me
the right salad. She acted exactly the way I did with my parents when I
was a teenager and asked to do any sort of housework. She'd do it but
only after discussion and objection. She might have thought she was
being friendly by revealing so much of her own thoughts and opinions.
This might be what's meant by treating the customer like family.
On getting the check, I did something I've never done before. Usually I
tip normally. If I don't like something about a restaurant or meal, I
don't return, but I don't take it out on the waitress. That time I
insisted on tipping a quarter of the amount I normally would. Five
percent came to a whopping dollar and change. I'm not sure I was right
to do so. I still have misgivings, but I couldn't see that she was
hardworking but clueless. She seemed more spoiled, like her parents
were forcing her to work and like she was getting them back by doing
everything badly.
--Lia
