Tip your server
Inevitably, there will be a time when you’re running around, doing errands, and realize you haven’t eaten for what seems like days. Since dropping off your bags in the car and speeding off home is a waste of time, you schlep your purchases with you to the nearest place that serves hot food that will energize you for another few hours of mindless spending.
Interestingly enough, even though you’re starving, you’re still selective in the process.
So, what makes you walk in through the doors?
Is it the menu? The décor? The hot servers that forget your water, screw up your (simple) order and then get pissy when you tip them appropriately for their shitty service?
One, some, or none of the above?
Come to think of it, I find the aforementioned situation very similar to surfing the Net.
You’re going around, clicking page to page, link to link, seeing what exists, filling your mind with words and images; like satiating your appetite when you’re starving.
So, who are you? What made you come here? What made you come back? The menu (bland)? The décor (blah)? The hot server (bleech)?
Something must’ve made you come through the doors… or made you run out screaming.
Leave a comment - no tip necessary.
Interestingly enough, even though you’re starving, you’re still selective in the process.
So, what makes you walk in through the doors?
Is it the menu? The décor? The hot servers that forget your water, screw up your (simple) order and then get pissy when you tip them appropriately for their shitty service?
One, some, or none of the above?
Come to think of it, I find the aforementioned situation very similar to surfing the Net.
You’re going around, clicking page to page, link to link, seeing what exists, filling your mind with words and images; like satiating your appetite when you’re starving.
So, who are you? What made you come here? What made you come back? The menu (bland)? The décor (blah)? The hot server (bleech)?
Something must’ve made you come through the doors… or made you run out screaming.
Leave a comment - no tip necessary.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
6 Comments:
Sometimes a place just feels right. And the waiter IS hot.
Perhaps it is the opportunity to glimpse into another person's life in an attempt to find meaning in one's own. Or perhaps it is the enigmatic nature of your entries - while providing snippets of daily life and self-characterizations, the entries leave much unsaid and, I suppose, leave much to the gentle reader's imagination. Thus you become a shaded version of whomever the reader wants you to be. It is simultaneously alluring and frustrating.
Six: You don't eat out much.
Anon: I was expecting, "Hi, I'm Candy and I work as a flight attendant (and am a certified member of the mile-high club). Reading your posts make me stop thinking about pulling the hatch and watching those annoying passengers fly out of the plane while it's going Mach 10."
Or something of that nature.
But, thanks for finding me both alluring and frustrating.
Van: OMG, you've gotta be kidding.
WTB: I'm a grab bag of contradictions. I'm picky and desperate in so many things, it's chronic.
Well it seems when I'm in the mood for something salty-sweet, this is the place to come. The server is hot, but he's never above sitting in the booth beside you and giving your leg a squeeze while he regales you with his delicious little conquest after work last night. The food is the humble stick to your ribs fare that keeps the clietel coming back again and again. Let Hollywood keeps is frou frou nibbles, I'll have the coconut cream pie please.
kb
Van: I knew you were talking about a & f not a & f (although they're both the same, in theory).
KB: If I had an award for best answer (which I don't - this ain't the Oscars), you'd win.
Post a Comment
<< Home