The Bull Moose Party or How I Became a Follower of Shiva.
Or the formerly progressive party of the early 20th century led by Theodore Roosevelt...
Yes I paid attention in 9th grade history, though I did do a term paper on the subject a bit back.
However the word progressive is key here.
Apparently "progressive" dining is the new fad in town.
I bet you Oprah let it slip how much she loves to do it and perhaps that's why its spreading like the clap on a naval base.
Well to the uninformed progressive dining is where you go to a different restaurant for every single course of the meal.
First stop drinks, second stop appetizers, third stop salads...
And so on and so forth.
Friday night a reservation came in and did the appetizer course.
Luckily I didn't have it and I mocked the poor server that did (all in good humor of course)
Well I am now turning in my crucifix and worshiping Ganash or whatever.
Karma is a bitch.
I happened to be the head server that night and about an half hour to close a nine top walks in the door looking fairly well dressed, big tip I thought, perfect way to close out a rather solid night.
I was on it like a chicken on a junebug.
As I ran around throwing tables together I went up to the host station to pick up their menus.
A gentleman from the group came over to me and said, "Oh we don't need those, we're only here for dessert, we're doing the whole progressive dining thing."
We're not even know for our desserts.
Not that their terrible, most are good in fact, just they aren't our focus.
I sigh as I lay down the dessert menus and walk off to collect my thoughts.
I grab up the other closing waitress, "Hey, want a nine top to finish off the night?"
"Fuck that, I'm going clubbing," is the answer, of course.
Well maybe they'll order a few rounds of Ports or a few other after dinner drinks.
Nine decaf coffee's is their initial order.
Who ever thought of this progressive dining needs to be drawn and quartered.
Or at least the maximum allowed in the America, waterboarding or at the very least being called dirty names in Arabic.
I get their coffee's, too bad we were low on regular or I'd pull the decaf trick...
Just kidding Decaf Nazi's!
I return to the head gentleman,"Sir are we all ready to order?"
"Are you trying to rush us or something?" He asks.
"Certainly not sir!" I respond.
Of course I am.
Our dessert guy is leaving in a few minutes and I don't really relish the thought of firing a bunch of creme brulee's or nuking "homemade" chocolate cakes.
I give them two minutes and ask again, its getting close to close time.
The gentleman rolls his eyes but the ladies start hopping up and down for their brulee's and such.
I get the order in and the cook freaks out on me for giving him a ticket of nine at that hour.
Three rounds of coffee later they're ready to be served.
I've never understood how people can down hot coffee like that, but oh well!
I let them eat their desserts and ponder what has just happened.
I hate yuppie fads.
Pinot Noir after the whole "Sideways" thing.
The Oprah book club.
Like I need her approval to think "Catcher in the Rye" is a classic, did anyone take freaking HIGH SCHOOL literature???
Crocks irk me, after all us servers have worn them literally for years.
Of course they weren't hot pink and we didn't wear them in public...
I do think my favorite was seeing all the giant 70K SUV's with Howard Dean or John Kerry stickers attached to them like badges.
I hope this one dies an early death.
After all this is the first one to actually affect me with more than just minor annoyance.
The time I could have spent shutting down the kitchen or cleaning tables was spent with endless coffee refills and table maintenance.
I can't believe they turned me down on my Port offer, instead they're sucking down Sanka like the rapture is coming.
Eventually I drop off their check, 67 bucks.
"Can we have split checks?"
As I'm working at my computer station I think of all the other poor servers that had to deal with them.
At least I had them later rather than in the middle of the rush.
I bet their appetizer server about had a fit the second he walked through the kitchen door.
Of course I did make a slip up, I was running around doing close cleaning during the breaks I had with the table.
As I was quite busy playing catch up with my work, I didn't even think to put the grat on their tickets.
As they walk out the door I pick up the tickets.
Nine bucks, that won't even buy my the amount of booze it will take to forget them and this stupid new fad.