Third Offence

It’s For You… And You, and You, and You, and…

I’m at dinner the other night with my girlfriend at a nice, quiet, romantic, candle-lit Italian restaurant. Soft Italian folk music wafted through the air where it mingled with the delicate aromas of the delicious fare being offered. The atmosphere was absolutely perfect for a relaxing meal when suddenly it was interrupted from the table next to us.

BA-BLEEP! - “Hey Joe, where are you?”
BA-BLEEP! – “where eating at (restaurants name), just sat down”
BA-BLEEP! – “oh yeah? (loud static) unintelligible, have?
BA-BLEEP! – “What?”
BA-BLEEP! – (loud static) What (garbled) they have?”
BA-BLEEP! – “What do I have?”
BA-BLEEP! – “(unintelligible) on the menu?”
BA-BLEEP! – “ Oh, it’s Italian”
BA-BLEEP! – “Anything good? (loud static)”
BA-BLEEP! – “Let’s see, they have Lasagna, Pasta Pescatore, Fettuccini Alfredo…(more long descriptions follow)”.
BA-BLEEP! – “(more inane dribble interrupted by very loud static and periodic drop offs)
BA-BLEEP!
BA-BLEEP!
BA-BLEEP!

Ah yes, it was one of my favorite “look at me” items, the Nextel cell phone with the “Walkie-Talkie” feature. Now everyone can enjoy BOTH sides of your idiotic conversation.

This wasn’t the first time I have encountered this at a restaurant. Before it was during lunch time on a weekday so you figure that people are working, some are on call at a moments notice and need to be in touch with the office. This is acceptable, to me at least, and I understand it.

But this was different. Aside from the several tables with couples on a date, there were some larger groups and a few families with kids. Even the KIDS were quiet and well behaved which should be a big clue even for the terminally clue-less but NO! Big, loud-mouthed, blowhard Joe had to start reciting the entire menu to his static plagued, auditory challenged, interrupting, Nextel friend.

Was it just me? Am I the only one who has a sense of “manners” any more? Maybe I am just simply behind the times and these types of things are the new acceptable behaviors. Or maybe I am just simply “intolerant” which can be used as the new warm fuzzy word for “bigot” which is really a word meaning “you don’t agree with me and I am right so fuck you”.

I would hope that to most people it would be obvious that this just isn’t the kind of place to suffer your personal, loud, half unintelligible, half static conversation with the people around you. To me, it’s almost as bad as cutting a loud fart in an Opera House. I don’t want to hear flatulence during Carmen, and I don’t want to hear your Nextel during my Antipasto either!

As my eyes scanned the room I realized that I was not the only one annoyed by Joe’s recital. Couples mumbled softly to each other as they shot looks in Joe’s direction. The only ones who didn’t seem to notice were the parents but keeping those kids quiet was demanding their full attention, and I thank them for that.

With no end in site, and Joe only now just getting to the Entrée section of the menu, I could suffer this no more. I turned around and in my best tough, Philly-Italian style accent I said “Yo Joe, Tell him to join you already, We’re trying to eat over here!”

As Joe’s face began taking on the color of tomato bisque, a soft clapping arose from a few of the tables around us. He and his date/wife/girlfriend went outside to continue the conversation and never returned. Now if I could just get the same reaction on the beach!

Snow Peas are People Too!

I had a long career in the restaurant business before the web came around and I decided to work on that instead. You name it, I did it in the business, but primarily I was a chef and later a manger and a consultant when I burned out from the kitchen.

One night, in a particularly posh restaurant I managed a couple came in for dinner. He had all the trappings of a young attorney and she, all the trappings of his bimbo. She wore a fur coat that said “honey, you’re worth a fur coat… but not Mink” and wore the attitude well. As she scanned the menu she asked her server if the manager was available and thus I was summoned to the table. I was expecting to find a cockroach in her drink or something really embarrassing (which would have been unusual for that restaurant). I didn’t suspect their service was an issue since the server was very professional, one of my best.

“Excuse me sir” she started. “Are there any Snow Peas in the vegetarian stir fry?” (Something she could have asked her server). “Yes” I answered, along with sprouts, water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, celery, and whatever else was in it at that time.

“Oh” she moaned with a disappointed look. “I can’t eat Snow Peas, I’m a vegetarian” she explained. Instead she ordered the Chicken Marsala and enjoyed it as much as wearing her dead animal coat.

And all I could think of was “This guy has people’s lives in his hands”.