I was gleefully pouring the plonk, it wasn't good enough to be called wine, for a chatty table of four. Despite knowing it was nothing more than a less than delectable grape/anti-freeze concoction I still had to go through the whole gentrified process of presenting, opening and tasting and all that jazz. Whilst I would have loved just to slap the wine down on the table and go,"Yo, wines up" I really cant see the boss taking too well to it. And if I am being honest I do love all that waiterly/winey jazz. But some wines are just not worth the effort.
not really very funny at all...
The host, a very loquacious woman who hadn't stopped to take breath from the moment she arrived, was yammering on and on about her son's new girlfriend to the other guests at the table. It appears that her son had been going through some tough times, I dunno maybe his playstation was bust, and this new lady in his life was, "just the ticket", to making him happy again. Awh bless. Although if you ask me, he sounded like a right bed wetter.
The rest of the group listened intently, for they had no choice, with lots of sympathetic head nodding and fake smilery. The woman's husband added tedious little nuggets of information along the way such as who the son's new girlfriend's parent were and what they do for a living. This caused much ooohing and ahhhing from their friends. It was all so bleurghsome.
Now the wine may have been as cheap and as nasty as a member of 1980's hair and teeth band, Motley Crue, but it's cork was proving harder to shift than a field full of hippies on a summers day when there is a special offer on cider and petiole oil. It's reluctance to pop from the bottle was frustrating me but yer woman's flap jawing was distracting the guests from my fiddling and mucho mucho strenuous endeavors. Which was nice. As I finally got the pop I had been seeking I noticed that the mood at the table had shifted to being quite sombre as the woman doing all the talking became quite teary as she spoke. Her husband gripped her hand and her lady chum on the other side of the table reached out to touch her on the arm.
Crikey, maybe the son had broke his X-Box as well as his playstation.
I dispensed with the tasting of the wine and went straight to the pouring. Sometimes you just know they need a drink. There were soothing words as she gripped her husband's hand. The other lady looked quite teary now too. I just wanted the wine poured so I could get the hell out of there. I knew little to nothing about the situation but it takes very little to set me off and no one and I mean no one wants a blubbering waiter at their table.
I smiled affectionately at the woman as I poured her wine, she smiled back. The table went quiet, as much because they finally realised I was there and because there was nothing else to add to the conversation. They were taking a moment to reset their emotions. But from behind me I could hear the other gentleman, who up to this point had said nothing at all, ruffling and rustling. I turned round to pour his wine to find him fixing himself, if you know what I mean.
"Thank fuck for that! I was all tangled up....such a ball ache....what were you saying? Are having starters or what?"
A real class act! Talk about self involved! Idiot. He was glared at by his wife and the other couple just stared out the window in a, "we didn't hear that" kind of way. But he didn't care or notice and as the evening went on he became more and annoying finally culminating in his being sent to the naughty step by his wife, well he was told to go and phone a taxi, for making a very rude remark when I brought down the chutney for the cheeseboard.
"Chutney!", he exclaimed.
"Chutney's great", he added with vigor and if you will forgive me, relish.
"Up the chutney!" Except he said it three or four times and was as giddy as a school boy looking through his mother's clothing catalogue.
Oh my, a real class act. Boundaries, he needs em.