Dining and Whining

Me:      I'll have the turkey, no mayo.

Girl:     *slathers sandwich with mayo*

Me:      Excuse me, I'm sorry, I said no mayo.

Girl:     *gives annoyed look, remakes sandwich* Do you want chips, pretzels or a pickle?

Me:      Pretzels, no pickle, please.

Girl:     *gives chips and a pickle*

 

*sigh*

 

(So, having a bad day, are we?)

 

Not generally, but holy crap. Simple instructions are apparently hard to follow. I just wanted a turkey sandwich with no mayo, and some pretzels. So, of course, you know this experience is gonna lead to a blog post.

 

(Oh boy, here we go….)

 

Why does dining out have to be so laborious sometimes? I mean, there I was, just looking to get a cheap sandwich from the deli counter downstairs because it's thirty-something-f*cking degrees outside and it's ALMOST APRIL, and… I mean, turkey, no mayo, with pretzels. Why is that so hard???

 

(Dude, you're stressing over a sandwich.)

 

It's not so much the sandwich, it's an overall despair with respect to the level of service you receive these days. Regardless of how much or how little I pay for something, I expect to receive decent service for my money. I don't think that's too much to ask. You don't have to be all chipper and cheery and ask me about my day, but I do expect you to remember that I said "no mayo" for the entire ten seconds it took to pull out two pieces of bread.

 

When I returned to my office to eat said sandwich forlornly dismayed, I read the news briefs and came across another dining experience story. In this one, an upscale restaurant instituted a policy whereby children five years old and under are no longer permitted in the restaurant.

 

(I bet that got some comments….)

 

It sure did. One of my favorites was an enraged woman who decried the restaurant's policy by saying "some families can't afford sitters!"

 

Here's the thing… if it's an upscale restaurant, I actually support such a policy.

 

(Huh. Didn't expect that from you.)

 

I know. I'm an enigma. But think about I – if you're going to be spending your money on an upscale dinner, you're not just spending on the food. You're spending on the experience. Cotton tablecloths; wait staff that brushes the crumbs away in between courses. Water glasses that are never empty. Not to mention a higher quality of food and better wine than might be available at your average Olive Garden. So no, I'm sorry, I don't want your ill-behaved four-year-old bouncing against the back of my seat, or throwing a tantrum because the restaurant doesn't have chicken nuggets and they won't eat whatever you ordered.

 

For what you're paying for that kind of meal, there comes an expectation of enjoyment and serenity. I don't even like it when adults get loud and unruly. Look around you, examine your environment, and act accordingly. If you can't conduct yourself with proper demeanor, or if you child is incapable of behaving, you shouldn't be there.

 

Here's where things go awry… I checked out the restaurant online. For starters, the description of the place on Google begins "[a] strip-mall storefront gives way to an intimate setting for Italian pasta, entrees & wines….]

 

(Here it comes…)

 

Alright, I'm being elitist, but by and large most "strip-mall" restaurants don't typically fall into the upscale category. There are always exceptions, but… we're starting off in a strip-mall. Trying not to pre-judge, though I already, admittedly have, I went to the restaurant's website to determine just how "upscale" the place was.

 

It's an Italian restaurant, with the bulk of the menu consisting of pasta dishes or other entrées priced at $18 or under.

 

*blink blink*

 

Okay, let's take a step back, here. Maybe my idea of "upscale" is relative. Maybe it’s a product of my elitism, and I've admitted my own elitism in the past, but…. A strip-mall Italian restaurant with decidedly common menu choices priced at below $20 an entrée is not exactly what I would classify as "upscale."

 

The menu choices actually mirror, to some extent, those offered at the aforementioned Olive Garden, with barely a couple dollars' difference in prices for most dishes. Would I expect children to be banned from Olive Garden? No, of course not.

 

This restaurant, me thinks, has some delusions of grandeur. But hey, if you want to describe yourself as "upscale" and exclude children, that's your choice. And if you want to provide a better dining experience for those who perhaps cannot afford true, upscale dining, more power to you. In fact, good for you.

 

(So... what's your point, exactly?)

 

There are plenty of kid-friendly restaurants out there. If places like this want to provide a small children-free environment such that their patrons can dine in peace without the threat of crying or ill-behaved toddlers, let them, and go elsewhere if you disagree with their policy. But don't condemn then by any means.

 

You should get what you pay for. In my case, I got a botched order on a $5 sandwich. Should it have been wrong? No, of course not. Did I know I was likely going to get sub-par service for the convenience of not having to go outside? Yeah. If I went outside, however, to the restaurant up the street, I could have ordered a $12 Angus burger with hand-cut sweet potato fries, and had someone filling my water glass for me. And I would have expected that.

 

 I know, I'm rambling. So I'll leave you with this:

 

If you're paying for upscale, you should get upscale.

 

If you're paying for convenience, you'll get what you pay for.

 

Don't judge either way. Mind your own peas and carrots.

 

Now, I'm gonna go finish my crappy sandwich. Anybody want my pickle?

 

(BWAAA HAAA HAAAA!!!!!!)

 

I.. Hey! That's not what I meant!!

 

(Dude, it was there.)

 

Touché, pussycat. They I'll truly leave you with this…

 

(Uh oh… wait!!!)

 

Too late. When the moon hits your eye, like a big-a pizza pie….

 

(That's amor… you suck.)

 

Enjoy singing that the rest of the day.

 

(I didn't ask for earworms!)

 

Hey, I never claimed this was an upscale blog. You get what you pay for.

 

 

© 2017 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.