Do not speak to me like that, young man
Last Friday evening, I took a GF out for a belated birthday celebration. She chose Marben, a first visit for me, a return for her. When I entered at around 8 pm., the place was nearly empty, with a half-dozen suits clustered at the bar and one table of diners.
Though I had reserved, the host led me to the worst table by far, a two-top butted into the wait station. "We're a little jammed tonight", he said, "is this all right?" I said firmly, "I don't want to be here", and was then offered a choice banquette.
She arrived late, burst into tears (stress- a move and reno from hell), polished off a glass of red, and we settled in for a companionable evening. Good food, proficient service. At my rejected table, a young couple made first-date conversation.
I suspect the Table of Doom is given to non-regulars, or those so "over-served" during cocktail hour that that they can ignore their perch on top of the dish bins.
As we were leaving, the host, chatting with his mates near the door, asked, "Have a happy birthday, dear?" So here's the deal, so-hip Marben: If I catch even a whiff of condescension, in any establishment, I am never coming back. Your form of address, coupled with your seating strategy ensures that "dear" dines elsewhere.
Though I had reserved, the host led me to the worst table by far, a two-top butted into the wait station. "We're a little jammed tonight", he said, "is this all right?" I said firmly, "I don't want to be here", and was then offered a choice banquette.
She arrived late, burst into tears (stress- a move and reno from hell), polished off a glass of red, and we settled in for a companionable evening. Good food, proficient service. At my rejected table, a young couple made first-date conversation.
I suspect the Table of Doom is given to non-regulars, or those so "over-served" during cocktail hour that that they can ignore their perch on top of the dish bins.
As we were leaving, the host, chatting with his mates near the door, asked, "Have a happy birthday, dear?" So here's the deal, so-hip Marben: If I catch even a whiff of condescension, in any establishment, I am never coming back. Your form of address, coupled with your seating strategy ensures that "dear" dines elsewhere.
Comments
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/07/us/07aging.html?em
(Though we're not exactly "elderly" the sentiments still apply.)
Had to laugh yesterday when discussing a poem with my class and realized that the couple they saw therein as an elderly couple was quite close to the one that I saw as 30s or 40s-ish. No contradiction in their minds at all. At 55 I could laugh about it, but I think the two female mature students in my class (both 30-40's-ish) were disconcerted! Some of them see any of us over 40 as potential "dears"!!
Julianne: I've been called "dear" since my late 30s and am liking it less as each decade rolls by!
I got an email the other day with a typo 'Dear Fiend' I thought how appropriate. What an apt typo.
I generally call the business and let them know. The servers are more a reflection (positive or negative) on the owner and on how they want their 'clients' to be (mis)treated. One wonders too if the owner is some gobeen who has no sense of culture- no class- no idea that his/her servers are projecting a horrible face on his/her establishment.
In some cases if that is so, calling makes no difference at all.
I think we change this by how we raise our own children and basic manners aka respect. Which isn't always valued. I think it is all BAD manners- Parents who don't teach their children how to be. If they don't know they assume some trite words thrown into the arena are okay. Is there a portal in the brain that after a certain age closes to manners and culture- like language has a time frame or bonding-
I think where they first placed you set the tone for the evening.