H
Harters
New member
It was meant to be a pleasant, if quick, lunch, literally at the water’s edge on the Pine Walk. Everything started well – drinks came quickly; bread and alioli came quickly; orders were taken quickly. And then nothing. Zip, zilch, nada, rien, nothing. For getting on for an hour. We’d eaten the bread. In fact, we’d eaten a second basket of bread. But no sign of lunch. And it wasn’t as though they were rushed off their feet. They weren’t. And it wasn’t that our order was simply in a busy queue. It wasn’t. In that hour, not a single plate of food came out of the kitchen until our order. And it wasn’t as though this was complex food – a pzza and a burger are the work of minutes.
And the food? Well, it was OK. Three of the four seasons of the pizza were fine. The fourth was cheap, slimy ham and was scraped off to the side of the plate. The burger itself was OK, although they managed to burn the bun and were ultra-stingey with the chips.
And the explanation for the delay? A load of old tosh that the printer wasn’t working in the kitchen. As if the waiters wouldn’t go and ask where their orders were. As if the kitchen wouldn’t ask why no lunch orders were coming in. As if I was born yesterday. As if.
And the food? Well, it was OK. Three of the four seasons of the pizza were fine. The fourth was cheap, slimy ham and was scraped off to the side of the plate. The burger itself was OK, although they managed to burn the bun and were ultra-stingey with the chips.
And the explanation for the delay? A load of old tosh that the printer wasn’t working in the kitchen. As if the waiters wouldn’t go and ask where their orders were. As if the kitchen wouldn’t ask why no lunch orders were coming in. As if I was born yesterday. As if.