The Service Industry or Why I want to Make my Own Food.

The Service Industry or Why I want to Make my Own Food.

    Over the weekend I went to a middle of the road family restaurant in Dublin, VA (If you're wondering, Dublin is about 30 minutes south of Virginia Tech. It's like where Moonshiners is filmed. Sort of.) Anyway this restaurant, Fatz, is one of my favorites to go to. Not because it is one of the only restaurants in the area, but because it is annoyingly close to an Applebees. That makes me laugh. A lot.

     This next statement is going to seem very strange, and slightly moronic. I don't care, I am going to stand by this.

    I do not understand restaurants.

   I understand the industry. You are too lazy to make a meal at your house, or too ashamed of your hoarding habits to invite people into your home, so you decide to go have someone else make the same meal you could have made at home but for inflated prices. Because that is really what we are doing, isn't it? In our fast paced world we would rather go to a noisy building, with dirty tables, and pay a very sweaty ex-con to butcher our steaks, instead of sitting at home and enjoying the soft music and sense of accomplishment when the meal is finished. . Before you say "Hey, I dont think that is accurate!", believe me. It is, I have worked in a few restaurant kitchens before they are mostly ex-cons. Or coke heads, I have worked with a few of those.

   But if you stop engaging in the forced table conversation that so many people have, and start to look around, restaurants are a weird place. Why are there always kids running around. And not just horseplaying, I mean sprinting through some tables? And why is it considered socially unacceptable to trip them? Sometimes, to teach a kid to swim, you have to kick them in the pool.

    And why does every time the wait staff come back to the table, everyone shuts up like they were conspiring to assassinate a political figure? The waiter at PF Changs does not care about your plans to upheave the mexican drug cartels, they just want to know if you want more watered down Mango Tea. (BTW PF Changs? Asian Bistro? Seriously that place is about as chinese as I am.)

This is how most normal waiter interactions go.

Patron at Table: So I was driving down I-95 yesterday when, you'll never believe what happened...

Other People: (Feigning interest) Oh man what happened?

PAT: I got passed by Carl. Remember from High School

OP: (Contemplating suicide or killing speaker) Oh wow, thats so funny.....

(Waiter approaches table)

Everyone at table: (Silently in their heads) OH MAN SHUT UP! EVERYONE SHUT UP! THIS GUY IS BACK! HE IS GOING TO WANT THINGS FROM US! NO ONE SAY A F*%&^($&ING WOOOOORRRRRDDDDD!!!

Waiter: Can I get anyone anything?

Dick head at table: Can I change my order?

(Waiter stabs customer, drops knife calmly by his side, puts on sunglasses as building explodes)

     Maybe that isn't a completely accurate re-telling of an experience but you get my point. People in herds are stupid. Learn to cook.