Home
Valentines
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1261
It's Valentines Day and we're sort of busy.
Sort of busy, because we stopped taking reservations several days ago, the more experienced waiters looked at the book and said "enough" and so we stopped taking reservations.
Sort of busy, because we're only half full. Someone dropped the ball. In every other restaurant in the city Valentines day is the busiest day of the year. Still, after all the hype and anticipation "sort of busy" is a bit of a relief.
There's an interesting mix of couples that made it. Couples that are in love. Older Women out with their mothers. Happily married couples, couples that aren't yet couples but the man is really trying, couples of three that are trying desperately to cheer up a jilted friend...
There's an attractive couple sitting together. Tall slender blond, handsome muscular man. She orders a Chai Tea.
"I'm sorry," I say to her "We stopped serving Chai when we stopped making Vindaloo Curries..."
"You stopped making Vindaloo Curries" she exclaims, astonished...
Her boyfriend, he doesn't say anything. I want to offer some conciliatory remarks, she is very pretty after all, but it's not my place. Instead I apologize.
"I was joking. We don't make Vindaloo Curries. We don't have Chai Tea or low-fat decaf lattes. But we do have...." and I give her a somewhat more reasonable, albeit limited menu to choose from.
Fucking Asshole
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2321
He calls to make a reservation. I take it. I try to get a phone number, it's routine when you take a reservation; he doesn't like this, he'll be there, we "Know who he is", the owner, he "Knows who he is", still he reluctantly gives it, something about his tone, his manner, tells me he's an asshole.
I make a mental note of his name, of the reservation, I want to get a good look, want to remember this asshole.
He calls back later to cancel the reservation, reschedules it to Saturday.
I notice his name in the book, it's a busy night, still, will have to remember to swing by the table, get a look at him.
It's a damned busy night and I forget, but my memory is jogged by the new waiter telling me about an asshole he's got in his section who's told him in no uncertain terms that we definitely have "Absolut" vodka, because that's what he drinks and he's had it here before. Now me, I'd just bring him the house vodka, because that's the nice thing about vodka, whatever the brand, it's indistinguishable from any other vodka, vodka, by definition, is without flavour or taste. If he wants to believe it's Absolut he can, because, by very definition and the fact that it's vodka, it tastes the same as any other lesser priced vodka.
But the waiter has slipped up and told him we don't have Absolut and so he's had asshole rip a strip from him.
It's OK, asshole doesn't like his table, will be moving to my section as soon as a table frees up. And the vodka, it was a clue, and I check the book and sure enough his asshole is the same asshole that I spoke to taking the reservation on the phone.
Asshole is in my section.
He's with a couple of guests, a female partner, another big gentleman. Asshole is shorter, fat, older. He's unhappy that the hostess had the audacity to confirm he had a reservation before seating him, we're fully booked tonight, she should have known who he is. He talks to his guests about this, loudly so that I, so that the other customers, can overhear.
The food is brought out. Asshole is unhappy that the girl who runs the food doesn't know that his wife gets a certain dish, tells her so, she can go to hell this ignorant food runner.
And at the end of service, when they've finished their meal, when all the tables have finished their meals, the owner comes out to chat with the customers, ensure that everything's OK.
He stops by Asshole's table, he knows asshole....
Asshole tells him he's got too many tables in the restaurant, it's Saturday night and it's not private enough for him.
And Asshole, who's been rude to every staff member he's dealt with since entering the restaurant, since making the initial reservation over the phone, asshole has taken it just that little bit too far. Sometimes assholes don't know when to quit. And the owner, who's suddenly had enough of this asshole, loudly shouts:
"Getta this fucking asshole outa my restaurant...I've had it....Fucking-a enough of this fucking-a asshole!"
Loudly shouts. Loud enough that the entire restaurant, the entire, full restaurant, hears.
They look shocked. They slouch a bit in their seats, try to look like it wasn't them that he was speaking to. Maybe it was another table. They shrink. He's at the bar now, the owner, and he repeats himself to the entire restaurant.
"I want this fucking asshole out of my restaurant NOW!"
And they look around and there's no confusion, every table is looking at them and it's a small world, this restaurant, most of the customers know the other customers, and they try to save face by looking like the reasonable customers in the face of the tyrannical restaurant owner;
"I guess we should go..." suggests asshole meekly to his guests, and they agree.
He's got it right this time, the owner, and I'm surprised that we all don't applaud as they meekly get their coats and go.
One of the tables, the not-so-regulars, is shocked, they think it's appalling the owner would do this to his guests, and ask me to explain what just happened. And I explain it like this: That it is appalling, but that is how he's run his business for 30 years and everyone knows the rules. And that the person he's so violently expelled has been rude to every staff member he's dealt with since entering the establishment, and that there's more than just a little support on behalf of the staff. That asshole has taken it a bit too far, as asshole's often will, and has just been rude to the wrong person. And so while it's appalling this, wouldn't the world be a better place if we all told the assholes to just fuck off?
They understand and let the information digest.
He was a fucking asshole.
**Note. I Googled the name of the customer and while I'm dying to share it with you, discretion forbids. I wouldn't want to be accused of in any way slandering or impugning his good character. Suffice it to say that he's a prominent Calgary lawyer, specializing in litigation. And since there can't be that many lawyers that are a) Assholes or b) Specializing in litigation you should be able to narrow it down...
Quitting Smoking
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2996
Everyone in the restaurant is quitting smoking.
Zyban, Champix, they're all taking medications that are making it easier for them to quit.
I look them up. Side effects include, but are not limited to: dry mouth, headache, insomnia, rash, dizziness, agitation, anxiety, depression, taste disorder, constipation, nausea and vomiting and tremor, ringing in the ears, disturbance of vision, faster heart beat, confusion, chest pain, raised blood pressure and seizures.
Pretty much exactly what you could expect if you quit smoking cold turkey. And the success rate, it's about the same.
Then a customer comes into the restaurant, the owner greets him at the door. He's got a small oxygen kit with him, rubber tubes running from it up to his nose, The owner, he plays dumb...
"How are you? You look great...what's this?" (indicating the oxygen on the wheeler) ..."you just get back from vacation?".
They sit for a coffee. He comes to the bar to grab his own, he whispers to me under his breath "Ex smoker...".
They talk. The owner about how his quitting smoking is going, the Champix, the guest about how tough it is to get a lung transplant. He seems pretty upbeat, all things considered, if the government won't give him a new set of lungs he's going to go to the US or India, he needs a new lung. The owner, he's recommending he look for Pulmonary Surgeons in Cuba...
I gotta quit smoking.
Strange markings on the pavement
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1800
This morning, I wake up, notice outside on the pavement in front of the house strange markings. Painted symbols and arrows towards the house, It's like I've been marked by hobos, or singled out for some ritualistic murder, the symbols to identify me to the initiates, the truth is much more mundane. The new landlord has gotten his designs approved, there will be an eviction order pending...
And I have a damned lot of shit to move.
Page 919 of 1016