Who recognizes this out-take?

"You always admire what you don't really understand."

-Pascal

I'll give you all a hint...

Brilliant. Says Sir Topas.

"Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better."

-Camus

All Right. Alright.

"There is in every village a torch-the teacher: and an extinguisher-the clergyman."

-Victor Hugo

Here we are again.

"...il faut parler; cela n'est pas volontaire, vous êtes embarqué."

("You are already in the game. You must bet.")

-Pascal

Adventures in Dining

"An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise."

-Victor Hugo

Went to visit the boyfriend today.  We hung around the Quantico area and did some outdoorsy stuff.  We found an awesome little national park and spent some time on a rock in the middle of a rushing stream.  It was VERY relaxing and exactly what we both needed after our crazy weeks.  Around 5:15 we packed up our target beach blanket and decided to go find some Italian food.  

We looked in his GPS and found a place in Dumfries called "Brothers Encore."  Upon our arrival we discovered that this place was in a rather sleepy strip mall.  "Ugh, do you wanna look somewhere else?" asked Sweet T.  "Nah, I'm starving.  Lets just go.  I bet its good.  How can you really F-up Italian food anyway?"

And so it began.

We walked in to find a "not so bad" looking interior, complete with a pretty fountain in the center of the room.  "Oh this actually looks nice," commented Sweet T.  A very cute, very skinny and shy girl led us to our table.  We sat down and began to look at the pretty extensive menu.  We both sat there with our heads transfixed upon the menu's interior for a good five minutes.  Nonetheless, our waitress (whom I will simply call "Crystal" because I've never met a nice person by that name) came over about 3 times impatiently wanting to know if we were ready to order.  "We're clearly still looking at the menu," commented Sweet T after she'd walked away for the third time, "what is her deal?"

I decided upon the "Encore" dinner, which was pasta with a light lemony sauce and chicken.  It sounded more healthy than a lot of the options.  Sweet T picked the "Spaghetti Carbonara."  As we ordered a couple walked in the door.  Crystal's head followed the couple as they were seated.  She asked me twice what I wanted on my salad as she was obviously very absorbed in the activity behind me.  Then Sweet T began his order. 

"I'll have the spag-"

"CHELSEA!  (We learned the hostess' name)  What are you doing!?!  (Sweet T and I looked at each other hesitantly) IT ISN'T MY TURN TO GET SAT!  YOU JUUUUUST SAT ME!"

"Um...No I just sat (insert name here)," Chelsea replied timidly.  "It was your turn."

Crystal continues to ream out Chelsea for a few more seconds (WHILE STILL STANDING AT OUR TABLE) before she turned back around and asked Sweet T his entire order once more.  She left and he and I stared at each other shell shocked and feeling more awkward than I remember feeling in a long time.

"Poor Chelsea!"  I finally said.  

"I heard a story about this guy once,"  began Sweet T, "After he orders his food he puts 20% of whatever his bill is going to be on the table, and when the server does well he'll add another dollar.  But when the server does something bad, he'll take one away.  I think that action constitutes taking a few dollars away."

"Um, after THAT and her behavior up to this point she is getting 15% counted out to the penny and I DO have change in my purse," I replied.  This is significant, because (speaking as an authority on the subject-with [sadly] 12 years experience in the food service industry) in the past I have educated my boyfriend on the various up to date par levels for tipping.  20% is the old 15%.  I leave 20% unless someone has really screwed up.  At that point they might get around 17 or 18%.  I'm not sure I have EVER left someone 15%.

I got up to use the bathroom, and upon my return Sweet T filled me in on the activity that I missed.  Crystal had apparently gone back up to Chelsea, and in front of the entire restaurant continued to scream at her and asked if she "spoke English," reminding her that we were in America, etc. etc. etc.  And when Chelsea tried to defend herself she was interrupted.  

"Chelsea...go host," she said as she rolled her eyes and walked away.  

We received our salads a few minutes later.  My dressing was in a bag thrown on top of the lettuce.  I didn't say anything about that, figuring it was par for the course.  Sweet T was verbally annoyed by it.  The salads were pretty lack luster, but I didn't mind too much.  I was saving myself for that yummy lemon chicken dish I was about to enjoy.

Our entrees came around the same time as our sheer disappointment.  Crystal set down both dishes that looked more like soup than pasta.  I've never seen so much sauce in my life.  "Wow!  This is a lot of food" commented Sweet T.  "Yeah well, we have to go boxes," replied Crystal.

My dish may have possibly been appetizing if there was about 70% less sauce on top.  The "light lemon sauce," tasted more like that thick, artificial lemon filling from the inside of a dessert.  I tried to soak some of it up with parmesan cheese (that I had to ask for).  I scraped it off of the chicken and just ate that.  The noodles were a sauce drowned lost cause.

My boyfriend's dish was unfixable.  It looked more like an over-saturated cream chipped beef dish, as you LITERALLY had to search for pasta in the sauce.  I'm sure if anyone HAD been able to eat the spaghetti carbonara, they'd have suffered a massive heart attack before even exiting the premises.  "You should really send that back.  Lets get you something else," I pleaded.  "No its ok," he said...being too much of a gentleman to complain.  I wanted to leave RIGHT then.

About five minutes into our "dinner(?)," Crystal came over.  "Are you guys gonna want dessert?"  I couldn't get "No, I don't think so" out of my mouth fast enough.  "Oh" she said and made a face as she walked away.  Sweet T and I stared at each other in amazement.  "What is GOING ON!?!  Where is the hidden camera!?"

Crystal had walked by our empty coke glasses about 3 times when she brought the bill over (without us asking for it).  "Can I have another coke when you get a chance," asked Sweet T.  Crystal picked up his and left mine sitting as she walked away. "Can we actually BOTH have some more coke?" He called after her.  I could hear the sigh of annoyance come from behind me as she took her two steps back to pick up my glass.

The bill was $37.  For food that was absolutely inedible.  I'd had enough.  "I think I'm going to go find a manager"  I said.  "Do you want me to do it?" asked Sweet T.  "No, let me do it.  I work in a restaurant after all.  I'll be really nice about it.  I'm sure someone in this place has got to have some sense...other than Chelsea."  I got up and walked to the back of the restaurant where Chelsea and another waitress were sitting in a booth.  "Chelsea," I asked politely and quietly, "is there a manager on tonight that I could talk to?"  "Whats going on!?"  Crystal came up to ask/demand.  Chelsea and I walked right by her and waited for the manager in the bar area.

The manager came out wearing a grey t-shirt and was visibly annoyed.  I tried to lead her further into the bar in an effort to get away from people and not have this be a scene.  She was not going to go any further.  I walked back over and very quietly and calmly began telling her about our experience tonight.  I began with a disclaimer about how I worked in a restaurant and how the very act of seeking out a manager was hard for me based on my own experiences.  She seemed unmoved.  I told her about the very loud and public dispute our server had with the hostess.  She said nothing.  I told her about the rudeness of our waitress.  She still said nothing.  Then I began telling her about the food.  She interrupted me with 

"Well, are you talking about the Encore?  The encore DOES have a lot of sauce on it."

"Well, yes I suppose it does.  That was fine.  I was able to scrape it off.  But really, the big problem was my boyfriend's dish.  It was absolutely inedible.  There was too much sauce on-"

"The carbonara DOESN'T have any sauce on it!" She interrupted.

"Well, I believe there was something that resembled a sauce...?  You couldn't even see the noodles-"

"Its just made with heavy cream," she retorted  (is that NOT a sauce?!?!)

"Ok, I suppose there was just way too much of that then."

"Oooooookaaaaaay," she began sarcastically.  "What do you want me to do about it?"

I handed her the bill.  "I really don't think we should pay for his dish."  I said politely.  "He wasn't able to eat it."

"I can only take half of his dish off," she snorted.

"Well, ok, we would appreciate that."  I replied, genuinely.

I walked back over to the table trying to conceal my disbelief.  "Thank you Chelsea" I said to the hostess as I walked between her and the glaring Crystal on my way back.

Chelsea was the one who ultimately brought over the adjusted check.  I guess no one wanted to talk to us anymore.  "Lets get out of here," said Sweet T "I need to remember this place so I can tell people I hate to come eat here."

Back by popular(?) demand.

"Being lonely is a habit-like smoking or taking drugs.  And I've quit them both, but man was it rough."

-Jenny Lewis

Iron Lung

"People cannot endure their own littleness unless they can translate it into meaningfulness on the largest possible level."

-Ernest Becker