Sunday, March 22, 2009

Please Wait To Be Seated...

In our booming economy it may have been a while since you’ve visited your favorite overcrowded eating establishment (be it Cheesefake Factory, Macaroni Gross or maybe TGI FRY-days).  I know it’s been a while for me, but I think the reasons may have absolutely nothing to do with the economy and more do to with the little black “wait for a table” box.

The skinny blond hostess greets you with a smile that will freeze a cup of fresh Starbucks.  “Just one?” she asks as if it is illegal to eat alone.  You think hmmm, what I wouldn’t give for a great reply that compliments her use of the word JUST!”

If you’re lucky enough to be out with a group of friends her question might go more like “Is your entire party here?  Because we will only seat you if the entire party is here.”

If you’re SUPER DUPER lucky and you’re on a DATE, her smile may change from time to time.  First her look at your guy, a smile that would charm an angry monkey; back to you… back to chilly Starbucks.  She’s hoping you are his sister, but thankfully most brothers don’t hold their sisters hands as they walk into a restaurant.  Well, unless big bro is in college and lil sis is 4 years old.

So it’s a Saturday night and the restaurant is crowded.  And while I’m thinking about it…whatever happened to making reservations?  Half the eateries I frequent the most don’t even take reservations anymore, not to mention that the process of forward thinking for the guy I’m seeing is pretty much null and void, so reservations…not so much.

Blondie tosses a little black box in your direction and it’s a good thing you played catcher on that softball team, because you caught it!  That’ll show her.  Right, because she cares.  So you sit and you wait and you wait and you wait.  She said the wait would be 20 minutes and you are sure it has been at least 37.  Finally…43 minutes later the little black box flashes & vibrates.  You walk up to the hostess station again and that Arctic Freeze seats us at the best table in the restaurant, right by the kitchen...AND the restrooms!

Speaking of little black vibrating boxes with flashing little lights, I am thinking mine is defective.  Imagine for a moment that instead of Dairy Queen at the hostess desk handing out “wait to be seated” buzzers it’s Heavenly Father.  He greets you with a warm smile and genuine interest.  He doesn’t say anything like “JUST one?” because he knows ONE is the perfect number for ONE!  So I pick up my red (because black is not such a Heavenly color) “wait to be seated” box and move along my merry way and come to Earth. 

Earth…wawhoo…here we are!  So the idea is that when it’s your turn to “move forward”, you know…get to take the next step in your progression, your buzzer buzzes.  Tick, tick, tick…when is my buzzer supposed to go off?  I’ve been waiting at the really uncomfortable kids table for almost 35 years now, when is it MY turn?  I’m just saying.

I think my little red “wait to be seated” buzzer is defective. 

Where can I get a refund? 

Maybe just an exchange!

2 comments:

Landlocked Shores said...

By far... the best blog post I have read in a while. :)
Hope the fire ant bites are getting better.
Loves
Nicki

Cyd said...

Brilliant. Freaking brilliant.

You can sit at my table ANYTIME. I'm the cute single redhead at the table right next to the... bar. Bleh.