2005-09-14 - 11:50 a.m.
Day 3
Ugh, I failed.
I got home (home?) last night and the internet service in the hotel totally fried my computer, I thought it was broken completely, freezing on start up etc etc, I was distraught to say the least. Turns out that some Durr Brain turned off the modem that powers the hotel and screwed it up, and, as its a cheapy hotel, it wasn't going to be fixed till the morrow. walked with my laptop to the Marriott next door - a slightly upper class version of the Inn I am in, they wanted to charge me 2.95 for 15 minutes. I could relate the conversation I had with the aged dulling part time second shift receptionist trying to figure how A. it was free in my cheaper hotel, B, your are still a Marriott, C, the guest is always right (PAH!) but I won't.
So, after much wailing, gnashing of teeth, disk verification and repair clean up crap for no reason, I lost the plot and went back to last nights restaurant.
It was still a Steak, but I had planned on going somewhere else every night. The temptation of OH THE JOY... Boddingtons, walking distance and the rest of the menu there was too great.
If only it was great at all.
A completely different and slightly more bubbly but clearly less interested in her job hostess breezily showed me to my seat without a word of encouragement or greeting, THE SAME SEAT!!!! it must be earmarked for dull, lifeless nobodies who sit by themselves or something. Jeez.
Anyway, I sit and wait patiently, too patiently for the amount of time it takes for Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY who was my waiter.
I order an OH THE JOY... Boddingtons from Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY and a Jaggermeister and Orange juice (remember the frustration from the internet in the Hotel I needed to quell) Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY happily informs me that I cannot order 2 drinks at once in Massechussets. Stupidest law I have yet encountered in my 33 years. So I tell him to bring them one at a time, Jaggermeister first cos when he comes straight back with the Boddingtons it will be in my gullet, ozmosizing its rich alcoholic content directly into my blood stream through my stomach lining, hopefully bypassing my weakened liver. Of course, my explanation goes way over Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY's head and he gives me a nervous smile, I seem to be able to make most wait staff do that it seems. he he he
I order my meal at the same time as I know the menu by now and am hankering for the Medium Rare Fillet Mignon with a salad.
Salad comes before drinks. WRONG. WRONG WRONG. Ugh, WHEN will these pseudo high class restaurants get some fucking managers that can train wait staff to be ACTUAL wait staff instead of college kids getting paid while they learn "eledgedly" more important shit like engineering or law. Amassing massive student debt that will take them 8 to 80 years to pay off. These jobs are character building and it pains me that no one can take it seriously. Particularly Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY. Anyway, Im straying. As I continue to wait for my OH THE JOY... Boddingtons I nearly jump out of my chair due to loud wrapping at the windowed panel behind my head. I turn and, through the rippled glass, can make out Spanish, last nights unfortunate waitress that served me, smiling at me without the nervous edge as she realizes she doesn't have to serve me, probably, or maybe she wants it (they all want it) I embarrassingly acknowledge her presence so she can stop banging on the glass and she disappears.
OH THE JOY Boddingtons appears, freshly poured, interesting - seeing how I ordered it 15 minutes pryor - so I have to stare at it as it settles for another 1 minute and 33 seconds. PROOVING to me that Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY has only just realized I ordered it many moons ago. The first massive quenching gulp is totally wasted on my taste buds that have dried out completely and seem to have a pasty glue of saliva working as a protective sheath over my tongue. The beer erodes it away and the next gulp is wonderous, like a massive weight lifted off me, oodles of worry (the internet bullshit) peel off me and I even physically change shape as I relax into it.
The steak arrives. Perfect. I mean, listen, there is not really too much to getting medium rare right, especially if your a steak house, but it was exceptional. I even ate half of it before realising there was a gravy boat of mushroom peppercorn sauce (my favorite) sitting next to it. I totally drowned the remaining half of the steak with it and it was gone before Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY came back to ask me if I needed anything else, like cracked pepper? a water? Ugh. Toyed with the idea of telling him I required better service. Cut my losses and ordered a Dalwhinnie single malt, on ice, with a drop of water in it. Well, a glass filled with the shot somewhere in amongst a gallon of water arrives along with a price tag of 16 dollars. wait, let me spell that out. SIXTEEN DOLLARS. Now, I have had 60 year old whiskies that cost that, not 12 year olds, 'Ive had top shelf stuff in NYC, the most extortionate city in the WORLD, and the Dalwhinnie costs 9!!!!!!
I had to express my dismay about that to Mr smiley-happy-ignorant-careless-BOY who, as you can expect, gave me a fearful embarrassed smile.
tipped him 12% (15% is norm and "expected" 20% is great service) GRRRRRRRRR.
Starting to concider going into restaurant consultation. Extremely expensive three hour sessions with all your staff to teach them some basic procedures and sequence of service rituals to improve service 10 fold.
p
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