Andy can sleep…
…my little angel!
The day after Christmas is a poor time to decide you want to get breakfast at the local fast-food joint. I tried. There were two lines waiting to get their orders in and a parking lot full of cars.
After waiting nearly forty minutes in one line that moved exactly one car, I noticed the time. In a bit more than hour, another restaurant would be open – maybe! – and I could enjoy a sit-down lunch. Breakfast at the fast-food place was becoming more like brunch.
I backed out of the line and took off for a drive in the country I timed to be just long enough to spend till the regular restaurants opened.
When I got back to town, I saw one I hadn’t been to for a while was open. I went in, ordered the house specialty. In the booth next to mine, there were four young children, kids of one of the wait staff. They were cuties but when the little boy tumbled against the bench back at their booth, the bench, which was double sided, with the other side on my side, pushed the table I was at closer to me. Frankly, it got tedious in short order. I like kids, but please put them where they don’t interfere with paying guests if they are going to be unsupervised!
The meal was average, a bit disappointing. I ate it, finished it, not particularly savoring it in its mediocre, barely warm state. I waited and waited for the bill or some suggestion the wait person who waited on me remembered to check up on me to see if I wanted dessert or my check or just a hint of a smile from her for helping her make a living.
No one came for a solid half hour.
I finally just got up and went to the counter to pay and get out of there. The mother of the children finally stopped long enough to tell me they’d get to me shortly. She went back to filling drink glasses. My wait person was doing the same. I wondered what happened to her.
I note that standing for any length of time is problematic for me, that I have been known to pass out or come close to it when just standing long spells with a cane. Having to stand while the people behind the counter took care of anything and anyone but me, it was only because I could hang onto the counter that they didn’t have a medical situation!
Finally, “Mom” came back, processed my credit card, handed me the receipt to sign – with a pen that didn’t work – I hope the credit card people accept a receipt with pen impressions for a signature! Where it said tip, I left a blank, the first time ever for me.
I noticed that there were signed receipts strewn about the countertop, receipts people didn’t want, food orders, little trays with peoples’ orders and pricing. It was a mess, one that could cause the restaurant to lose control and money.
I think this place could use a visit from Restaurant: Impossible! if it still were in production.