Today’s Daily Gripe: How was your meal
The “How Is Everything?” Drive-By: A Study in Premature Evaluation
Today’s daily gripe centers on a peculiar ritual of modern dining that drives me absolutely crazy. It happens every single time I go out to eat, and it’s executed with the mechanical predictability of a Swiss watch.
The server drops off my plate, pivots on a dime, disappears around the nearest corner for exactly four seconds, and then teleports back to my shoulder like a caffeinated 2-year-old to ask: “So, how is everything?”
How the hell should I know? I am currently in the middle of a delicate salt-and-pepper operation. My fork hasn’t even broken the surface tension of the steak. Unless I’ve developed the ability to taste through osmosis or a particularly intense spiritual connection with my steak, I have no data to provide you.
I’m not sure who pioneered this “immediate interrogation” technique, but let’s be clear: it’s not exactly atom-splitting intelligence. Wait ten minutes. Let me actually chew. Give me the chance to establish a relationship with my mashed potatoes before you demand a performance review. I have written many in my day, and at the moment, no raise for you. Trust me, if the chicken is rubber or the soup is cold enough to sustain a penguin colony, I’ll be the first to let you know.
I can only assume the endgame here is to turn the tables over with the speed of a 15-year-old and his porno mag. They want you to cram that food into your pie hole and clear out like cattle being herded through a chute. If I wanted the frantic, “eat-it-and-beat-it” energy of an all-you-can-eat trough, I would have gone to a buffet. Since I’m paying for a chair and a ceramic plate, maybe—just maybe—let me swallow before you start fishing for compliments.
At this rate of doing things, I’m going to follow Nana’s lead and start taking souvenirs.
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