November 11, 2015 Article

The Old Coot eats in style, old coot style.

By Merlin Lessler

I was in a restaurant the other day. It wasn’t one of those silver diners I grew up with, the kind with a long row of stools on one side, a line of booths on the other and a tray of Rolaids, not mints, next to the toothpicks near the cash register. This one just had tables, no counter. A sign by the door said, “Please wait to be seated.” It might as well have said, “Stop right there; we’ll decide if, and where you’ll sit.” Of course, no one was in sight, so I stood there like a dope, doing as the stop sign instructed. Eventually, a sleepy, 20-something hostess staggered over with a pile of menus under her arm. It looked like she’d had a rough night. But, my analysis was off the mark, as it often is. She didn’t have a rough night; she looked a little ragged because she had to get up early. NOON! As she explained after telling me I could sit anywhere.

That got my “old-coot-tell-them-how-to-run-their-business mouth wagging. “Why don’t you write, seat yourself, on the other side of the sign and turn it around when people can pick their own seat?” She didn’t know. Or care. Why should she? Not working for ten dollars an hour on a job where she has to get up at the “crack of dawn”.

Things didn’t get any better when another, 20-something employee, came to my “self-selected” table to take the order. He looked a little sleepy too, but he was able to get the “piece-meal” ordering process going. Which is one of the reasons I don’t really like dining in a “table” restaurant. They make you order in stages, starting with a beverage. When the waiter brought my ice tea he pulled out his order pad and said, “What can I start you with? Appetizers? Soup? Salad?” Start? I don’t want to start. I want one stop shopping. “None of that start stuff,” I said, and got the first of several eye rolls. “I want it all at once: soup, salad, burger and desert. And don’t bother telling me what the special is, how it’s prepared and the ingredients in the special sauce the chef drizzles over it.” I don’t like to eat in sequence. I want the salad and appetizer right there next to the soup and entrée. A little salad, a sip of soup, a nibble of shrimp cocktail, a bite from the entrée plate. All four items, taking their turn, like wrestlers in a tag team match.

This is starting to sound a little too cranky. Even to me. I need to go on record; I’m not cranky in restaurants. Pretty pleasant, if I have to say so myself. It’s just my analysis of the restaurant process that makes me sound that way. If you like sitting at a table and going through the process, good for you. You’ll see me at the bar, like I do when I go to the Cellar Restaurant, a beverage, salad, appetizer and the entrée right there in front of me. No waitress has to suffer my presence. Just the bartender, but I’m a big tipper. I sometimes even leave a whole dollar (when I don’t have any change,). He’s got nothing to complain about. But, he never says, “Come again soon.”