My New Obsession

Or, the reason I haven't managed to post anything in two days. I've been busy reading other peoples blogs. Mainly food service related blogs. I've stumbled upon some very humorous ones written by waiters/waitresses across the country. Now I'm left wondering why in the world I find these thing so darn funny. Does it help me better understand what Tim goes through on a daily basis? Is it because it reminds me of some of the experiences I had as a teen working at Burger King? Or maybe because some of their "worst customers" remind me of myself? Or is it just a check list so I know what not to do the next time I venture out to a local eatery to ensure a spit free meal? Everyone knows how anal I am about that.

We already give any waiter/waitress a run for their money with our custom orders (which I've since learned they frown upon) but we let them know ahead of time that we're going to be a pain in the butt (a major plus). Our children are better behaved than a lot I've seen, and we leave really good tips (most of the time against my cheap judgment, thankfully Tim makes me see otherwise). So I guess we do pretty well.

What a let down it would be to find out that, in fact, we don't really do all that well with our wait-staff comrads. All the time we've spent on our hands and knees picking up droppings left by our children was actually pointless. Maybe we should have just left it there for the poor young server who's job it was anyway. . . But, no that would be wrong, they are my children and any mess they make is my responsibility. I'm not going to leave it for some young, child-free server to deal with. I was once in her shoes and I know how disgusting it is to pick half eaten, soggy cheerios off the floor. A food that isn't even on the menu, yet is still strewn around the entire area marking the spot, much like a chalk outline, of where a picky eater once sat.

This family really, truly enjoys eating out. The amount of money spent on it in a given year could easily buy us a very nice plasma television. But now I'm left wondering if maybe we are part of the dreaded "hope they don't get seated in my section" group and are just completely oblivious like most others in that category. Maybe we are a pain in the ass. Everyone remembers us at said restaurants when we return even if it is months later. I always assumed it was because of the nice plump tips my husband insists on leaving. Hmmm, guess I have something to think about. And you better beieve I'll be reading the faces of the servers in the next restaurant we enter.

I think we should go back to the time where you tipped the server before the meal. That way it would be like bidding for service. Whoever left the best tip would get the best service and was free to be as much of a pain in the ass as they wanted. Because after all, they paid for it ahead of time, and in that, everyone knew what they were getting. Bigger tip = major pain. Sounds like like a good idea to me!