Wonderland Burlesque's Are You Being Served? Quiz

Wonderland Burlesque's 

Are You Being Served? Quiz

Mrs. Slocum be damned! 

Fans of the series are certain to be disappointed once they realize that I am actually referring to the kind of service you get in a restaurant. 

Service - whatever form it takes - is an integral part of eating out. Today, I want you to share your preferences. Here are ten questions, all regarding the type of service you'd like to receive (get your minds out of the gutter!) while dining out.

I'm looking for opinions and would love to hear about your various experiences.

Dining out... so many options. 

Let's dish!

1/ Drive thru?

No thank you. It's anxiety inducing. First you have to queue up. In a car. I... I don't do that. It makes me feel like a cow about to go down the slaughter shoot. That's why I can't do most cafeterias. 

Then there's the menu boards. Really? Over a hundred items with various options and a voice is barking at me wanting my order pronto. Screw that.

And about those offerings? Talk about crap food. Lowest common denominator nutrition. I'm more likely to ingest something of substance licking my steering wheel. 

And then there's the preparation and delivery of the food... sloppy. Messy. There aren't enough napkins in the whole world to stem it's stench-filled flow from adorning the seats and surfaces of your fine automobile. And did these people wash their hands? 

I know if I was working for minimum wage and a free 'what passes for a' meal? I wouldn't bother washing mine.

So, while The Boyfriend orders whatever makes him happy, I get a black coffee. I figure they serve it a temp that will kill off any and all bacteria, so it's a good choice. And it tastes like it looks... brown water. 

I'll give you a moment. 

2/ Order at the bar/counter and a server brings it to you.

Am I getting paid for this? 

Again. Standing in a queue. Or worse... there is no line, everybody has simply plastered themselves against the bar and the loudest, most aggressive of the bunch manage to snag the server's attention. 

And reading a menu from a chalkboard? What did I do to deserve this punishment? My eyes can barely focus on a written page or laptop screen. One look at that great black expanse filled with chalk scrawlings and I go all pie-eyed. And heaven help, if a server should pick me to ask 'what do ya want?' Panic ensues. I suddenly have no idea how to move my lips and form words that sound like anything other than sex noises. 

And I love it when the server rolls their eyes as you stumble to choose something. So very helpful and empathetic of them. 

Then, they hand you a number attached to a little chrome tree and you wander off to find a place to sit. Finding something not filled with other people's leftover food and trash or anywhere not near the queue is like hunting for the holy grail. 

Then, after you've bussed someone else's crap and wiped down the table (don't ask a server to do it - they will be so put out and you will get, yet, another eye roll!) you wait wondering if your food will ever be able to find you. 

The place always has all the ascetical value of meat packing plant and the music is too loud and simply bounces off all the highly-polished, yet amazingly grimy surfaces. 

The food is (literally) dropped off at your table and you never see that person again. Your food is cold, but you eat it anyway, because you don't want to risk another eye roll (I believe after three eye rolls they morph into a demon who spits in your food.) 

I always leave these places feeling demoralized and wondering why the food was so 'wet.' If it's not dripping in grease, it's dripping in some sauce or condiment. It makes me feel like I've just consumed a soiled pillow. 

3/ On-line or QR Code menus?

The Boyfriend and I recently walked into such a place and, upon learning that you had to scan the QR Code (that little square) with your phone in order to read the menu, he blew a gasket, said 'fuck no' and stormed out. I was rattled and got all sarcastic and bitchy with him about not trying new things, but... 

He was right. I was wrong. 

What a dehumanizing experience. 

And now? Places like Applebees (ick) are experimenting with touch screen menus. You get seated and just punch in what you want and it eventually appears at your table. You pay at the table by swiping your credit card on the side of the menu. 

No.

I want service. I want to interact with a total stranger while choosing my food. I need dialogue. 

Without that slight interaction? It could be months before I utter a single word.

4/ Full Table Service?

Yes. Of course.

What am I? An animal?

In my lifetime, I will never have an actual servant. No butler. No maid. No dedicated shopper. 

The closest I am ever to come to such a relationship is when seated at a restaurant and then greeted by some smiling (I hope) person, there, with the sole purpose of granting me my heart's desire - a nice chopped salad, no dairy, no meat, dressing on the side.

This is civilized. This is civilization. This is why I bother putting up with all the rest of the bullshit the world has to offer in ever increasing quantities. 

Just for the simple satisfaction of communicating my cocktail order and then, in a reasonable time period, receiving said cocktail exactly as it was dictated. 

That first sip? Makes everything else tolerable. 

5/ Dining alone.

I love dining alone. Especially in strange cities or towns. I don't take up much room, but my eyes grow so large. Drinking it all in as I sip on my coffee or a nice tini. People out in public? They fascinate me. Better than television, because their scripts are all open to interpretation. 

That couple over there? It could be an on-line hook-up off to a dull start with a quicker end or a couple whom have known each other long enough to be sick of each other's bullshit. And family meals? Provided they're all adults (I avoid places that welcome children,) it can be highly entertaining. I always try to figure out which one is the black sheep as early as possible, because they are the ones to watch. That little shit-stirrer? That is where all the drama is going to spring from. 

This type of social voyeurism? I suppose one could consider it crass and a bit mean-spirited. Maybe even a bit predatory? But then, I'm a stranger, in a strange town with nothing else to do. It's not like I'm going to write a novel about what I see. So, no harm, no foul.

Besides, it's a lot less predatory than the other thing I'll be spending my time doing while dining alone: checking Grindr on my phone to see if there's anybody at the restaurant looking for a quick 'handy j' in the men's room. 

What?

It's not like I'm ever going to see them again. 

Thing is? It's usually the black sheep of the family!

6/ Dining one on one.

Yes. I like a captive audience,

Sadly, I tend to talk only about myself, which, due to my tiny life, is such a dull proposition. I'm always amazed when the whole evening has passed without the person sitting opposite me face-planting in his plate of tortured food. 

That's why I always offer to pay. 

That way, they can drink themselves into submission and I get to prattle on about how 2014's Difficult People is really nothing more that Seinfeld reduced to a cast of two. 

I'd feel sorry for my dining companion, but... he knows what side his martini is 'olived' on.

7/ Dining in a small group.

I'm fine. I take a backseat to whoever invited me. I typically play my part. Sometimes that means being 'the witty one' and sometimes just 'the sullen one.' 

Oh, me? I  would never engineer such an outing. Small groups? Not my thing.

First off, one must know more than two people you'd want to spend time with to create a small group. 

So? I'm out.

8/ Dining in a large group.

Adore. 

You can create such chaos and get away with it. 

Order tons of 'shared' food items for the table. It turns dividing up the check into an exercise in patience and diplomacy. 

Also, you can start a rumor about someone seated a great distance from you. Make it juicy, yet, possibly true. And be sure to say you heard it from an acquaintance of the group not in attendance.  Then watch as the bit of salacious gossip ripples its way around the table and, whatever you do, don't miss the moment the subject of said rumor learns about it. Their face? Worth sitting elbow to elbow for an hour and a half with a bunch of people you don't really care all that much about.

Plus, you never know... someone might be up for a quick 'handy j' in the men's room.

9/ Do you mind eating with or near children?

Yes. Very much so.

I have been known to bolt from a table after being seated if the restaurant's host should see fit to seat a family with children in my vicinity.

Children. They are little soiled germ-carrying noise boxes. Let them eat their chicken fingers and suck on their organic juice boxes at home with their nannies where they belong.

My biggest regret? 

That I was once a child.

10/ What is your attitude toward a waiter? Servant? Part of the experience? New friend? Ticket to a good time?

As I remind you all repeatedly, The Ex was in the hospitality industry his entire career, so for 20 years I got to sit next to and learn from a master.

A waitperson is your ticket to a fun evening. The smart ones treat you like a treasured guest and the smart guest treats their host with great respect. As a guest, you may make simple requests, gentle suggestions - but behave civilly at all times. A guest should never order their host around or make demands. Yes, you're paying for the experience - but you're not creating it. You're a consumer, not a restauranteur. Sit back. Smile. Be polite. Know your place, your waitperson is already aware of what's expected of them. Trust. Don't dictate. You'll ruin your own evening.

I have the utmost respect for servers. I did it. Or tried. I was a crabby server. Or an anxious one. I was either indifferent, haughty or overly-eager to please. I was a mess. When I meet a server who behaves in such a fashion? I count them out. They are not going to be part of my good time. I ask as little of them as possible and limit contact. 

When you have an old pro? Well. Your night is made. I do tend to be sexist when a guest. I like using terms like 'sweetie' and 'dear.' Sometimes with the gay boys, but always the ladies. I don't know why. It's annoying, for them, I know. But one tini in and my mouth has a vocabulary gayer than Charles Nelson Reilly at Paul Lynde's all-nude birthday party. 

Bottom line, I know that person is working very hard and that I am not their sole guest. I also know that the tip I leave is the only way they will ever know how much I loved or loathed their service. It is the ultimate feedback. I tend to be overly-generous. They just served me a wonderful meal. I'd like to buy them a decent lunch, at the very least. 

They are not your friends. Unless you know them, which... I don't. I no longer know anyone who waits tables for a living. Hmm. I guess I've evolved. 

As for them being the ticket to a good time? 

Well, you never know... 

If it's a slow night, they may be up for a quick 'handy j' in the men's room. 

If that's case?

Then I'm the one hoping for a nice tip.

(And something tells me Mrs. Slocum gave more than her fair share of 'handy j's' back in the day. That is, if Mr. Humphries didn't beat her to it.)

--- ---

And that's enough of me.

Okay, your turn. You know what to do: leave your answers in the comments section or post them on your blog and leave a link here. 

That's all for now.

Thank you so much for reading... and participating!

Service With A Smile - Kuf-Linx

Service With A Smile

(1934)