Intolerance

Normally, I wouldn’t consider myself an intolerant person.  I tend to be very patient with people who look like they are being trained in on a job, or even try to calm their fears when they apologize profusely for messing something up.  Life is about learning after all.  I am intolerant, however, with those who do a poor job, never acknowledge it and then pass blame on those who ultimately pay for the service.  I went out to dinner with a large group of friends from law school on friday night and had such a horrible experience with our service that we actually concluded at the table that we were being filmed for some reality show about how far midwestern nice will extend.  Because no one could be that bad.  I won’t give too many details except that there was a toupee and a prodigious amount of sweating involved.  It ruined my night…not only because I had been truly looking forward to the experience of dining with good friends, but this particular establishment wasn’t cheap.   Perhaps if they comped us a dessert, or a cordial I would have left a bit mollified.  We never even received a dessert menu…just a tab, one tab for the table which we expertly divided within minutes, only to wait an extra 20 while said server figured it out.  If I would have had my own ticket, I would have taken a picture with my camera of the $2.00 my husband was charged for ice…it seems that it is fine to have a smooth whisky, but if you dare defile it with ice, it’s gonna cost you.  By the time I was asked for my third credit card, the problem not being the credit card, but that the paper needed changing in the machine, I was livid.  I didn’t get angry, but since critique is important I was clear about the $2.oo I left for a tip was a message to do a better job.  I also spoke to the management…I was very nice and polite, my friends will attest to my impeccable behavior even if my conflict despising husband was so embarrassed that he practically ran out of the restaurant.  The restaurant’s response?  Well, next time hopefully it will be better.  I just stared waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out from behind the desk and inform us that we just got punked.  It really was just that bad…..

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