Monday, December 28, 2009

Dining Out.

We've all been there. Sitting in the restaurant waiting to be served like queens on a throne, only to be ignored by the servants. Or as they're called now, "servers." But here's the thing...we're not queens and no one has servants, so why do some people cling to this notion of being served supremely at restaurants?

Many times I have sat at a table with people and there's always one that gets a little pissy if their water gets low or they haven't received enough attention from the servant. What is this phenomenon? Are we in such a state of instant gratification that we expect someone to serve a good time to us instead of creating it ourselves?

It's as if the server is personally assaulting the diner. Everyone at the table can tell the bitchfest will begin when the angered diner starts looking around for the servant. At this point, there is no conversation to be had with this person. They're playing hide and seek with the servant, bobbing their head back and forth, checking every corner of the restaurant. "Where the hell is he with our wine already? How hard can it be to fill a glass of wine? And I'm starving, have we even ordered the appetizer yet?"

It goes on and on as if she is crawling across a desert, dying of hunger and thirst. (And yes, I do say "she" because strangely enough, I've never experienced a man reacting to a lackluster server this way.)

Look, we have Luna bars and protein water these days. I think you'll make it.

You're not hiking a mountain; You are sitting in a four star restaurant after yoga class. Trust me on this, you'll be fine if your glass of water gets a little low. You can always run to the bathroom and scoop some water out of the faucet if you get dehydrated.

And by the way, the "servant" has more jobs than serving you as we can see by the way he's running his ass off from table to table, gasping for air.

So really, the situation is this: The server may die, but you the angry diner, will not.

I don't go to restaurants to be served. I go to enjoy the company of my friends, family, or my husband. That's a treat for me. If my water gets low, I'm not going to dehydrate right there in my booth. I'm not going to shrivel up and fall to the ground like a raisin. I'll make it.

If my server is smacking gum and doesn't give a shit about me, I'm cool with it. Sure it's rude, but I have a wide net of people that care for me, so I really don't need the emotional support of someone serving food to me anyway.

Frankly, I'm just enjoying the treat of having a meal without neededing to wash the pots and pans used to create it. And more importantly, I go out to restaurants to enjoy laughs that cannot be served by anyone other than the person laughing.

Maybe it's time we get so engrossed in our good times that we don't notice our water getting low or whether our server has checked the status of our hunger and thirst.

Maybe going out to restaurants isn't about replenishing our bodies after all. Maybe it's about replenishing our hearts instead.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, your restaurant philosophy is so interesting. I could not agree more with this. There is a lot of power in being patient and enjoying the moment