I try to be like the sloth. I do not like to be rushed unless I am the one choosing to rush.
I went here for a business date and its a good location for it as the upstairs is like a converted farmhouse with reams of light flowing in through the skylight. Natural light just always elevates a mood.
The minute we enter we are launched upon,
"What would you like? We have sandwiches for x amount, we have soup we have..."
At this point my anxiety levels started to rise.
"I would just like a few moments to look at the menu, please."
"OK"
I felt all eyes on me like in poker. So I folded early. He got the soup which he loved and I opted for the salad plate with one meat. I looked at the display searching for the salads, maybe they had them stored elsewhere?
"The salad I will have the salad with meat."
"OK salad. You want lettuce with that," as she dumped a handful of lettuce on my plate.
"I guess I will."
"What else, tomatoes," as she reached for them.
"NO! I don't want tomatoes."
"OK what else? Onions, peppers... What else?"
All she needed was a light bulb to shine in my face as I sat shaking mumbling...
"Please more time... Stop rushing me."
So after that I got a very sad looking speedy unimaginative "salad". I'm glad I didn't pay for it. I don't think it would kill them to make salads with more imagination. If a salad could personify a job mine definitely was a tax inspector.
Also it did annoy me that my companion was addressed as sir, they practically fawned over him. Am I not entitled to a title? Such as m'aam, madame, lady, ms? I can be a lady if I try. read more