Tonight my Arts Editor and I chose to frequent a local eatery for our evening repast. Having waited the requisite half hour for a table, we ordered appetizer, soup, and entree, and the first two eventually arrived, although it seemed to take longer than usual. \u00a0It was a Friday night, after all, and the place was full to capacity.<\/p>\n
Then my entree – a flatbread drizzled with chicken and soaked in BBQ sauce – arrived. A single bite revealed that it had sat perhaps overlong on the counter post-baking, and\u00a0we asked the waitress to return it to the kitchen for a bit of reheating.<\/p>\n
Perhaps five minutes later a young lady stopped at our table, introduced herself as the manager, and, with a slight degree of mortification, delivered the sad news that the flatbread had been forgotten and was now fired beyond redemption; it had been condemned to Limbo, at best, and she had ordered its replacement forthwith. We laughed with her (inasmuch as mortification can be laughed with), expressed good will, and returned to our conversation.<\/p>\n
Five minutes on, the manager returned to our table, and crouched<\/em>\u00a0in front of our\u00a0table. Now, you must be given to understand, this lady is not a particularly tall lady, so when I say that, upon attaining her crouch, she then leaned towards our table, you must see what we saw: a pair of goggling eyes, a forehead, and some windswept blonde hair. From this position, she announced, in a slightly muffled voice, and with a definite increase in mortification, that she really, really didn’t want to be here, but that there would be a further delay:<\/p>\n “There was an, um, collision in the kitchen, and now your entree is floor-pizza. I’ve ordered another replacement.”<\/p>\n Being of an occasionally slightly sadistic disposition, I assured her that this was merely my birthday dinner treat, and all would be well, I trusted, and, indeed, a flatbread pizza did eventually appear at our table, along with assurances that we need not pay for the evening’s entertainment. \u00a0We dined, with pleasure, and will return in the future.<\/p>\n If only in hopes of more entertainment.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Tonight my Arts Editor and I chose to frequent a local eatery for our evening repast. Having waited the requisite half hour for a table, we ordered appetizer, soup, and entree, and the first two eventually arrived, although it seemed to take longer than usual. \u00a0It was a Friday night, \u2026 Continue reading