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Showing posts with label talk to me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label talk to me. Show all posts

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

I'll ask the questions if you don't mind...

Sometimes I wonder if guests can actually see me let alone hear me. I'm short but I'm not a frigging midget and what I lose in height I make up for in bulk. I announce food at the table and no one takes a blind bit of notice. I ask if they are ready to order and no one answers. It's frustrating. Frustrating but sometimes understandable. I appreciate that you are deep in wonderful conversation and the waiter standing over your table with burning hot plates is nothing more than an inconvenience, a fly to be swatted away. Honestly I do understand it. But what I fail to understand is the person who feels the need to translate/parrot everything I say.

who's a pretty waiter then?
pretty waiter, pretty waiter....

It happens all the time and it's gets on my moobs.

There is always someone who considers themselves to be the leader at any table. It matters not whether it's a table of two or a table of twenty two, someone always has to be the leader. It goes something like this,

"Hi, can I get you something to drink, maybe some wine?" I'll ask in a clear and confident voice. There is no way the table hasn't heard me or misunderstood what I am asking. But our intrepid and no doubt fearless leader will step in and interpret for everyone. Cheers for that a-hole.

"Drinks? Would anybody like a drink? He's asking about drinks. Drinks eh?" as if I was speaking Swahili.

But as frustrating as that is there's worse to come. Instead of telling me what they want they tell the great leader! It's as if they aren't allowed to talk directly to me or I am fucking invisible. Believe me if I had the power of invisibility I wouldn't be wasting it working in a restaurant. I'd be, well I don't know what I'd be doing but waiting tables would seem like a waste.

"John, I'll have a Martini."

Eh don't tell John, tell me. I'm right fucking here. Hello!! Fat lad with order pad. And then they ask yer man questions to ask me. That just baffles me!

"Do they have Campari John? I'd love a Campari"

"I'll ask."

Get the fuck I'm STANDING RIGHT HERE! I can hear you talking. Bet they'd see me if I got my "waiter's friend" out and started waving it about like a mad man. That's right I mean penis!

"Waiter, do you have...."

"Campari? No we don't do it."

Jane waits for John to decipher the answer.

"Jane, he says they don't do it?"

Mother of the sweet perpetual light is there no end to this Tom Foolery? She must have heard me say it, she's like what, a foot away from me? She speaks English, I speak English. What gives people?

But the very best is still to come. With our translator having managed to do my job he turns to recite the whole thing to me. But the look of puzzlement on his little face is tremendous when I cut him off.

"Yeah it's okay I got it."

"You got it?" He asks puzzled by my ability to hear what people are saying who are sitting only a few feet away.

"Yes sir, I got it."

"You must have been listening. We'll have to watch you!"

Bite me.

And on it continues throughout the meal. It's very fucking tiring. I decided to bring this up today as I was inspired by a three top I had for dinner on Monday. It was a nice Japanese couple with a local chap. The Japanese couple seemed to have perfect English but this didn't stop the local guy from translating. I say translating but it was a whole lot more offensive than that.

"Hi can I get you guys a drink?" I asked all chipper and happy with life.

In steps our "translator" all slow and precise...

"Would you like a drinka?"

Drinka? I thought I was hearing things a first. But he persisted.

"Cokea? Winea? Beera?"

What the Gordon Ramsay was this? I know nothing about the Japanese language but I'm pretty sure you don't just stick an "a" on the end of English words to make it Japanese. This, as we all know, is how to speak Italian. He did it through the whole of the meal. They had steaka with champa, vegetablesa, and some oniona ringa. I was close to smacking the guy.

Jesusa wepta.

Please stop it. And if you cant understand what I'm saying get the person beside your computer to read it for you.