The Ugly Americans
Last night, after an excruciatingly dull two hours at the bottom of Primacare's triage (to get final clearance to return to "full work duty," not that I haven't been putting in 60-hour weeks while on "limited duty"), I went to the Vietnamese place down the street. Usually I'm the only non-Asian person in the place - it took several visits before they stopped trying to hand me a fork. But not last night.
Two late-middle-aged women were there, trying to get their server, a very young guy who obviously knew about 50 words in English to dissect every dish on the menu. "Is it like basil, or does it taste more like anise?" one of them asked. The guy finally gave up and got a woman, probably the owner, to come out and talk to the women.
"Well, I won't try it unless you tell me it's going to be something I like," said the pink-haired one, and her salt-and-pepper companion said "And if you can't tell us whether or not it contains mint, then I won't try that, either."
Why the hell weren't these women at McDonald's?
Meanwhile, I ordered egg rolls and chicken soup (hey, chicken soup cures all ills, no matter the language it's listed in). I'd already gotten the egg rolls by the time they stopped browbeating the staff, and they complained that they weren't served before me. Huh? Was I supposed to go hungry because they're idiots?
I was re-reading "Persuasion" for the zillionth time, and only reading about Anne Elliott's extraordinary patience and goodness of character kept me from dumping my soup over their pointy, loud heads. Well, that, plus the soup was really good.
Salt-and-Pepper didn't like the appetizer that the young guy brought out, so she complained. The manager said they wouldn't charge her for it. Then S&P proceeded to eat the whole thing, including the garnish.
Pink-hair got up to pay the check, and Salt-and-Pepper said, loudly, "I don't think they deserve a tip, do you?"
"Oh, of course not, not with service like this. Besides, they charged me for the appetizer that I didn't like."
At this point, I wanted to get up and strangle the pair of them, but I'm pretty sure that's one of the things we're not allowed to do on Shabbat. They left, increasing the quality of the air 500%, and I finished dinner and kept reading. When I left, I put a tip on the table that was bigger than my bill. The servers earned it.
Those two old cows should have to learn to say "anise" in forty-six different languages before being allowed out in public again.
Two late-middle-aged women were there, trying to get their server, a very young guy who obviously knew about 50 words in English to dissect every dish on the menu. "Is it like basil, or does it taste more like anise?" one of them asked. The guy finally gave up and got a woman, probably the owner, to come out and talk to the women.
"Well, I won't try it unless you tell me it's going to be something I like," said the pink-haired one, and her salt-and-pepper companion said "And if you can't tell us whether or not it contains mint, then I won't try that, either."
Why the hell weren't these women at McDonald's?
Meanwhile, I ordered egg rolls and chicken soup (hey, chicken soup cures all ills, no matter the language it's listed in). I'd already gotten the egg rolls by the time they stopped browbeating the staff, and they complained that they weren't served before me. Huh? Was I supposed to go hungry because they're idiots?
I was re-reading "Persuasion" for the zillionth time, and only reading about Anne Elliott's extraordinary patience and goodness of character kept me from dumping my soup over their pointy, loud heads. Well, that, plus the soup was really good.
Salt-and-Pepper didn't like the appetizer that the young guy brought out, so she complained. The manager said they wouldn't charge her for it. Then S&P proceeded to eat the whole thing, including the garnish.
Pink-hair got up to pay the check, and Salt-and-Pepper said, loudly, "I don't think they deserve a tip, do you?"
"Oh, of course not, not with service like this. Besides, they charged me for the appetizer that I didn't like."
At this point, I wanted to get up and strangle the pair of them, but I'm pretty sure that's one of the things we're not allowed to do on Shabbat. They left, increasing the quality of the air 500%, and I finished dinner and kept reading. When I left, I put a tip on the table that was bigger than my bill. The servers earned it.
Those two old cows should have to learn to say "anise" in forty-six different languages before being allowed out in public again.