The Restaurant Story
I start with the payment first, pick my plate, choose my veggies, stuff everything up, give the bowl to the chef. He has earned the title of a chef just by the virtue of a white color apron and a white rhombus shaped hat. It says “Chef”.
Pick my silverware, my paper napkins. Sit down. Crap, forgot water. Get up again. Are yaar, forgot to get balsamic vinegar. Debate with wife on who gets up. We both adjust with each other and I get up again. Obviously. Haar ke jeetne wale ko paajigar kehte hai. Meet Chawla Paajigar.
Order ke liye ting ting pager rings. Chalo bhai, let’s go to pick our food. Pick food bring to table. Satyanash, wrong order. You guys had one job, you screwed up that too. The working kids there look so confused. As if they were supposed to work at a different restaurant and they happened to suddenly enter a wrong store and the manager there said “what the heck start working figure stuff out”.
After explaining a few times, just 10-15 minutes not very long, they fix the order and look at me as if it was my fault. For a few minutes there I do feel it is my fault. I feel sorry for quite sometime. After all I’m on a visa and these guys were born here. They know more than me, never mind they’re only 18 years old. When someone speaks with you in an American accent, everything sounds right. And convincing.
Somehow they manage to bring the new order. Ting ting pager funda is out the window. They just wave at me. I just lost my respect because they weren’t able to understand our order. I don’t even bother negotiating just walk towards the counter and pick it up. This is my 5th get-up-from-my-seat scenario. The whole idea of dining out is so you can sit at one place and have someone give you a break. At this point that idea seems to have been defeated.
Anyways back at my seat hoping I won’t have to get up again and chat with the servers and the manager at the restaurant. No more bas that’s it. You all are boring anyways.
They place a check even before we’re done eating and I look up and tell them you guys need to pay me salary too. I did most of your job. Except the cooking part I did everything else. Hopefully won’t have to do the dishes. Not sure about the restaurant policy. Either ways I’m cool with that you know I feel belonged here so much, part of the family here types. I feel like I know you all since forever. Is this how everyone at the restaurant hired? Do you have an interview process? Do you have training programs for first time customers who have no clue that silverware is at one side of the restaurant and paper napkins on the other side with a lot of ninja turtle hurdles in between and you have to have a black belt in plyometrics to reach point A to point B. There seems to be no path of least resistance here it’s all scattered everywhere. Ah! Maybe it’s a strategy for people for keep working so they feel more hungry and order more food and more business for you. Smart guys. Sales and Marketing 101.
“You didn’t sign the check sir”. I look up to a grumpy teenager who looks more like a geek squad intern.
As I sign the check, I hear his words in slow-motion, zoom in towards his face, “Tips 15% sir, nobody leave nothing these days….”
Grammar kid grammar. And I thought I was the immigrant with bad English 😉
I write from my heart.
I'd write even if no one was reading.
"Offending people since 1977"