Thursday, July 28, 2011

It’s Tough to Get Good Help….

Sometimes I like to depart from our travel diary to tell a story.  This is one of those times:
A few days ago we decided to stop at the local Perkins Restaurant for lunch.  As usual, upon entering, even though we were the only ones standing there, we were asked, “party of two?”.  Although at our age we seldom have a party with just the two of us, let along a crowd, we said yes and were led to our table.  While perusing the menu, I sensed that the server had approached our table, and I lost my focus on the menu when I heard Brenda say; “your hair is a lovely shade of purple – is that your school color?”.  Looking up at our server, I saw a young lady with bright purple hair and enough metal on her head to pick up most of the area’s radio stations.  When it came time to order, I though I’d best keep it simple, so I clearly stated five simple words, “club sandwich on wheat toast”.  She nodded vigorously, and off she went.
A while later we were served.  I looked at my sandwich, which was some type of breaded thing between slices of buttered, grilled bread.  Asking what it was, our server proudly said, “it’s, like, your cod sandwich!  We don’t have one on the menu, so I had the cook make it special!”.  I nicely told her that I had ordered a “club sandwich on wheat toast”.  Stunned, she left and went back to the kitchen.
About the time that Brenda was half way through her meal, a NEW server appeared with another plate.  This one was some type of chicken or turkey, covered in melted cheese, on….yes, grilled bread.  Sigh.  A “club melt”.  Once again I stated my five-word order, and was met with an apology.  I also pointed out that the fries from the original order were now cold.  Off she went.
A few minutes later, back she came, bearing what looked like a large pizza pan and three pounds of steaming fries.  By now Brenda had finished her meal and wasn’t interested in any more fries.  Shortly after, our new server reappeared with, YES!  A club sandwich on wheat toast, and also told us that there would be no charge because of the confusion.
But my ordeal was not yet over.  At the register, the cashier, without looking up, asked “and how was everything?”, to which I answered “Well, it was certainly an adventure”.  She quickly replied, again not looking up, “That’s nice!”.  Then, looking at my ticket, a dark look suddenly came over her face, she looked up at me, and said……”oh, so YOUR’RE THE ONE”.   And of course, I was. 
Seriously, I’m not making this up.  Ask Brenda.
Hopefully we’ll be back to telling you about our travels next time!