Tuesday, February 22, 2011

You Might as Well Relax... You're Going to Be Here for Awhile.

Wait... shouldn't that be awhilst? If while is whilst, then why isn't awhile awhilst? So why did we [Americans] change the Queen's English anyway? Was it simply out of rebellion or did we find the extra vowels to be unnecessary? Color verses colour. And what on earth do they have against 'z?' What did 'z' do to them? (BTW, they pronounce 'z' as 'zed' instead of 'zee'). Makes me wonder about Song of the South and Zip-a-dee-doo-da? Is it sung "Zed-a-dee-doo-da" instead? That just doesn't sound right. 


And there I go, off on another tangent. 


Tonight was one of the few times I went out to dinner alone. Usually there is someone around to eat with or I choose not to eat dinner (no lectures, please). There is something about eating a meal alone at a restaurant. Those who travel for business are probably used to it but that doesn't make it fun. I decided to go to an Italian restaurant and sit outside where I can people watch for entertainment. And thus begins my evening...


Eating is an event in Australia. If dining in a restaurant, you can count on a 2 to 3 hour meal. See the wait staff does not work for tips. They are well paid. Good on them but not so good for you. Oh, they will seat you right away, bring you a drink and take your order. They'll even bring your food in a timely manner. But after that, you are pretty much on your own. Good luck getting your check. Just trying to get someone's attention can be laborious at best. I suppose this is another one of those "stop and smell the roses moments" that we, as Americans, tend to ignore. Get in, sit down, slam it down, pay and move on. That's the American way, right? Maybe this is why we get the 'gollywobbles' as my mother used to call them. 


At any rate, I get to Olivo and find the place empty except for 5 other patrons. Normally, this would not be a good sign at a restaurant but it is only 4:30 so it is not the normal dinner time. In fact, they were still serving the lunch specials. Perfect. As expected, I am taken to a table and she returns almost immediately to take my order. Soon my Coke Zero is served followed by my garlic bread and spaghetti. Since there is no one to talk to, it doesn't take me long to finish my meal. Then it happens. The earth opened up and swallowed the waitress or an alien spaceship swooped in and took her to study her brain. Seriously, she was no where to be found. Patience, I told myself. What's the hurry? So I go back to people watching. Trouble is, there wasn't a whole lot of people to watch. And the ones I saw were mostly smoking. Just keep walking, nothing to see here and I don't want to smell your smoke. No offence. 


Yep, that's about all the patience I could muster (5 minutes. Maybe 3. Okay, so it was maybe 1. Whatever. Like you're perfect!). Sigh. I stood up and looked around. This place was empty. There was one bloke behind the bar so I headed over. And he turns around and walks into the back. So I wait. And wait. And wait. I go back to my table and think if I'm patient for a bit longer I will be awarded. Yeah, right. That didn't happen either. After an eternity of 15 minutes, I was finally blessed by an appearance from the waitress. She wanted to know if I were finished. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the ceiling as my plate was in the furtherest corner with the napkin and silverware all tucked nice and neatly on top. You would think the crease in my forehead from sleeping on the table would be another clue but whatever. And then a real conundrum... do I or do I not want dessert. YIKES! Of course, I want dessert after all I am in possession of the infamous dessert gene that has plagued my family for many generations. (Okay, I don't know that for a fact but I suspect it given my family's penchant for sweet things that cannot be a coincidence.) Giving into the temptation would mean at least another 30 minutes of meal time and I was ready to move on. But still, could I really resist? Then it came to me. Ice cream! Of course! I don't need to eat dessert in a stinking restaurant! I can stop and get rhubarb ice cream on the way back. Dilemma, shlemma. Problem solved, checque please! She started to leave when I handed her my credit card. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... my mom didn't raise a fool. I was ready to pay before she even left the ticket. I want out of here. It's one thing to drag out meal time with a friend or colleague, completely not an option by myself. So in record time of 90 minutes, I was out of there and on my way to Movenpick for two scoops of rhubarb ice cream. Yes, I said rhubarb and it is delicious. 


Even worse than the wait is the price. It is unbelievably expensive in this fine city. I am grateful daily that I am here on business. The cost of food is high. Whilst fast food is more reasonable (but seriously, who wants to exist on that?), eating in a restaurant is costly. A typical meal at a cafe will set you back $25 to $30 (at home this meal would be $10 to $15). Needless to say, I don't eat at high end places often. Usually, it is when I am eating with the client or other colleagues who have a preference for a good meal. Me, I'm not so picky (or I am picky which is why I prefer the plain Jane meal verses a gourmet dining experience). But hey, at least you don't have to worry about leaving a large tip!









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