Waiters and Sympathy Laughs
I just read a post by Rachel at Beautiful Feet about an overly attentive waitress they encountered at a restaurant, and that reminded me of our similar experience.
We love us some Outback Steakhouse. I used to go there for the grilled chicken, but now (since they replaced their BBQ sauce with sludge) I'm mainly drawn there because I really like their house salads. Anyway, here's how our first interaction with our waiter went.
Waiter: Hey you guys, welcome to Outback! Can I start you off with a couple of down under margaritas?
Me: No thanks, I'll just have a diet coke.
Waiter: Aw, not feeling adventurous? The margaritas are top-knotch!
Me: (Making the stupid decision to convey any personality or humor) Do you know how much booze I could buy at the grocery store for the same price as that margarita?
Waiter: Ha! Well let me know if you change your mind.
Seems innocent enough, right? From then on he visited our table every five minutes, refilling drinks that were 3/4 full, asking us what we were doing that night and jokingly (I hope) asking if he could join us, and making more lame jokes for which I felt compelled to be polite enough to offer a sympathy laugh. Maybe he liked us because we were nice and he didn't really have any other customers to entertain him. At any rate I started to dread his constant visits, because my people-pleasing tendencies (yes, I have them, and the only explanation I have is that I'm southern) made me feel like I needed to be super nice, laugh at his jokes, and not tell him to go away, because my husband and I wanted to have a conversation, or eat, or talk about him freely.
It's weird, I'm so used to having waiters that ignore me. Waiters that are overattentive seem to be rare, but I'd still take an unattentive waiter over an overattentive one. Because there are only so many sympathy laughs I can dole out on a single night.
We love us some Outback Steakhouse. I used to go there for the grilled chicken, but now (since they replaced their BBQ sauce with sludge) I'm mainly drawn there because I really like their house salads. Anyway, here's how our first interaction with our waiter went.
Waiter: Hey you guys, welcome to Outback! Can I start you off with a couple of down under margaritas?
Me: No thanks, I'll just have a diet coke.
Waiter: Aw, not feeling adventurous? The margaritas are top-knotch!
Me: (Making the stupid decision to convey any personality or humor) Do you know how much booze I could buy at the grocery store for the same price as that margarita?
Waiter: Ha! Well let me know if you change your mind.
Seems innocent enough, right? From then on he visited our table every five minutes, refilling drinks that were 3/4 full, asking us what we were doing that night and jokingly (I hope) asking if he could join us, and making more lame jokes for which I felt compelled to be polite enough to offer a sympathy laugh. Maybe he liked us because we were nice and he didn't really have any other customers to entertain him. At any rate I started to dread his constant visits, because my people-pleasing tendencies (yes, I have them, and the only explanation I have is that I'm southern) made me feel like I needed to be super nice, laugh at his jokes, and not tell him to go away, because my husband and I wanted to have a conversation, or eat, or talk about him freely.
It's weird, I'm so used to having waiters that ignore me. Waiters that are overattentive seem to be rare, but I'd still take an unattentive waiter over an overattentive one. Because there are only so many sympathy laughs I can dole out on a single night.
