Something to Drink?

We eat out a lot. How much? Well we almost never eat in. I work off of the fantasy that the waste of cooking for two makes it just as expensive as eating out. And if you bring half of it home and eat it the next day, what a deal. The truth is I just like to eat out. I like the variety of selections, the different ethnic options, an on-going gustatory adventure, I guess. We just had Indian food, last night and I can still taste the curry.

But come on Paul, get honest. I like the the social aspect of eating out, of knowing we are all part of a larger humanity. I like watching people, and guessing what makes them tick. To my wife's embarrassment, sometimes I ask them what makes them tick. I like watching to see what everybody selects from the menu hoping their choice will match up with my assessment of who they are. 

Rather than be annoyed by them, I have great admiration for the couple who is going out to dinner for the first time since the baby came. They are so brave. The man who brings his invalid mother to dinnner once a week I'm fond of. What an important event it must be for her to get out. Oh, I smile when I see the six teenagers fill up a booth and start acting out, lightly punching each other, trying to top each other with gross stories, or tricks they've learned to do with a fork.

Then there's the group of 9 young boys, plus coach, of the winning baseball team. They are bubbling over with pride, re-living the double play to end the game.  The coach has made it clear they can have only one coke.

Oh, the young couple on their first date. Their hearts are pumping, but their mouths are shut. (except to eat) They want to look at each other, but just can't.

Here come the four young married professional couples chattering about their jobs, the new cars they just bought, the houses they hope they can afford to buy.

They're all a little annoyed by the two couples who just walked in a sat down next to them.  Those couples just got off their motorcycles and they are dressed in leather. One of the men pats his girlfriend on the rear end just as she sits down.  Both of the women are rough talking, but mighty nice looking. And to be more polite than they might describe it, these women were sporting two very magnetic decolletage. The professional hubbies are trying very hard not to stare. For show they are trying very hard to share the indignant back and forth eye signalsof their wives. 

If you just go out to eat to eat, you're going to miss all this.

Here is something I'd be willing to miss. And I may need some feedback on this. I'm going to use a percentage here. I'm thinking 80 percent  of the wait people I encounter have memorized a soliloquy that goes something like this.

"Hi, my name is Charlene, and I'm going to be your server this evening. Can I get you guys something to drink."

At first this is going to sound like I'm nitpicking, but let's face it only the guys fit into the genetic catergory of guy. Typically the one with long curly hair and lipstick is not a guy. I know there are exceptions but let's not go there now.

Here's why it really gets to me. Charlene tells me her name and then shows no interest in mine or my companions. We are just guys. And the two of us, both of whom object, counted a record fifteen references to us as guys in one sitting. But that is not the worst of it. On more than one occassion wait persons have referred to us in a new bizzarre plural form. "Did you guyses want butter with your toast?"

I'm not saying wait people must possess the vocabulary of a William F. Buckley, but guyses? And I'm worried that hospitality schools are teaching them this. We've now run into the "guy" talk in three states and British Columbia.

I've tried to counter the guy talk  with something that irritates Peggy a bit. The minute the wait person says, my name is Charlene, I start using the old insurance salesman, politician trick.  I just keep working Charlene's name into the conversation. " You know Charlene I think we would like some water. Charlene is such a beautiful name. Charlene could we get some soda crackers with that water. I knew a Charlene back in Texas and I think she could have been your sister. Charlene, I'm Paul, and this is Peggy. " Did it open the vault? Did the latent charm come oozing out?

"Nice meeting you guyses. I'll get your water."

There might be a little bit of hyperbole here. But arn't you hearing the same thing? Shouldn't we be concerned? Maybe if all of us wear name tags like they do? That might work. I think I'll try it.

But you know if it doesn't work I'm still going to eat out. We just don't get characters like that at home.

"BURP! Excuse me Charlene it must be the Curry.