A while ago I wrote about finding a restaurant where I could go and have a nice steak dinner. I occasionally go carrying a good book and some me time.
This weekend a family friend and her mother came over to help me pack. I wanted to treat them to dinner as a thank you. And of course the fact that I was salivating for that petite sirloin had a pinch to do with it also.
Throughout the packing I kept bragging about the steak, the service and anything else that consisted of that restaurant.
We finished (for the most part) the packing. Now the 'mom' was in the hospital for a few days and this was her first 'outting' since then. I didn't care! I wanted that damn steak and if she can go to my place and 'supervise' us packing she can extend herself to going to a restaurant. (Avoiding the tired look in her eyes was easier then I thought).
Her daughter apparently cared less than I did. (And people thought there was only one of me out there).
We get to the mall where the restaurant is nestled at a corner of the food court. To save on trying to figure out who is who, let's call her Mom......oh I don't know......Mom! And her daughter.......the daughter. I will continue to be................me.
Mom is claustrophobic (I can relate), so when we walk into the restaurant and realize there is a wait, she is fussing about. I find a spot where there is space to my left and right (she is basically on her own). The daughter pretty much couldn't care less if Mom and I had an epileptic attack, she found herself a corner and was happy with it. Hate non claustrophobic people!
As we wait, I notice that the section I normally sit at and where the two weekend waiters that are worth their salt work in, was busy and those FUCKERS didn't look like they were leaving any time soon.
It really wasn't all that long a wait, or perhaps the fat fuck guy that kept staring at my tits while ignoring his whiny wife distracted me from the time.
A very young walker (They are called hosts, but this BYTCH was anything but), came by and said 'FOLLOW ME'. Well if I had a battery up my ass or a skate board I might have been able to. She all but did an Olympic run to the table. She planted menus and left, straight to the waiting ears of a waiter (now I admit he was looker).
Orders: A Phantom waitress comes over with pen and notebook in hand and we order: Fire wings to share, I get wine, the daughter ETERNAL WUSS gets water and her mother gets.................Oh Fuck what did she get?......a glass of something.
20 minutes later our drinks arrive, I ask the 'phanton' if the appetizer was ordered she said yes. I was already peeved that she did not bring the customary bread (a well seasoned biscuit that comes close to the Red Lobster one, they advertise all you can eat, but in reality they bring one for each customer), this BYTCH brought none. But these are family friends and I don't want them to see that 'other' Gracey.
Meal order: Me - Petite Sirloin, medium well, grilled asparagus, white cheddar mashed potatoes. The daughter ordered the same only she wanted her animal dead and re killed (well done), Mom ordered a pasta dish.
The wings come out. We have no utensils and not enough plates to go around (WTF????), I ask for utensils and napkins. The 'phantom' who is not the disappears after we placed the meal order (probably getting laid because the looker was missing also), we inherited a new waiter that fumbled about. He says his scripted apologies and runs off SUPPOSING LY to get the utensils and napkins. He also disappeared into the abyss.
The fury begins: I used a napkin instead of a plate to eat now cold wings. Food arrived and both steaks gave a scream when poked. The blood flowed to the mashed potatoes turning them into a Hello Kitty pink.
The Phantom was no where to be found. My caution for the other two were unfounded. The daughter began a rant on the Manager like a terrier on an ass. I cut in because my OCD does not allow a complaint to be said without structure.
Complaint:
The Phantom waitress barely showed herself, no utensils, the steaks were MOOOOOING, no plates. The daughter had a back up chorus going on 'Service sucks'.
End result: I didn't have to pay for the 5 ounces of wine I drank, the cold wings or Mom's dinner (which was pretty good).
End result: Mom was terrified after seeing us foaming at the mouth.
End result: We got gift certificates for another trip.
End result: All that salivating and I ended up with a Subway tuna sandwich.
End result: Customer Service in this world SUCKS!
End result: The daughter is crazier than I am.
Final End result: Cooks should be just that COOKS, as I stated in my letter to the Corporate office. Waitresses should be just that waitresses, also in the letter. Animals should be dead long before landing on the plate, yep, on the letter too.
With the way I suffer for food it amazes me I have the size ass I do!
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