Pet Peeves

And boy do I have a few of those! Oh, I know, everybody does. For every single one of us there is some little thing that just drives us up the wall.
For me it is actually about a dozen or so, but I'll try to be as brief in my ranting as I can be.
Okay, my number one pet peeve is a lousy server! Nothing pisses me off more than to go to a popular restaurant, and have to stand in line for upwards of forty-five minutes and then get a server who doesn't know a Queso dip from a salsa!
For instance; Hubby and I went to our local C----i's a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday night. When we got there at around sixish, there was a line out the door. Hubby is not one to wait patiently for a table, but I told him we were waiting. So, I went in, had our name added to the list and took that little pager thingy they give you.
While we waited, I happened to notice there were several empty tables, and hubby took a stroll through the restaurant and discovered there were exactly twenty-two empty tables and booths all over the place.
Now, this didn't make a lick of sense since there was a line out the door and down the sidewalk of waiting patrons. So, hubby asked to speak to the manager who told him that most of the evening servers hadn't come in yet. Huh? On a Friday evening? Are you kidding me?
Okay, so after forty five minutes we get sat, and it is fully another fifteen minutes before our server graces us with her presence.
Now, by this time hubby is a bit tense, so he doesn't use the sweetest tone while ordering his sprite. He's driving, so I get my usual two Miller lite drafts.
Off she goes and after another fifteen minutes we begin to wonder if perhaps she's gotten lost somewhere along the way.
Finally, she shows up, with a coke and a margarita! Hmmm, not what we ordered. Hubby is getting tenser. She doesn't even apologize, just snatches the drinks up and stalks off.
I try to laugh it off, but hubby is really testy by now.
Okay, after another fifteen minutes, she comes back and while I can't be 100% certain, I am fairly sure that my Miller lite has morphed into a Bud light, but I'm cool.
"You ready to order?" she says, and hubby's reply?
"We were ready thirty minutes ago, where were you?"
No answer.
Okay, we order chips and Queso before dinner Then dinner, yes?
No! Dinner arrives a full forty minutes later along with the chips and Queso.
"You can take those back," hubby says quite crossly.
"You ordered them," came her tight lipped reply.
"Yes we did, as an APPETIZER!"
So, she grabs them up and stalks off again.
My CFS is luke warm, the gravy a congealed mess on top of the mound of cold mashed potatoes. But, not wanting to cause a scene I choke them down.
Not so hubby. He's a bit of a wimp when it comes to rare steaks. he doesn't want to see any red in the middle. So, when he cut into his steak and the blood oozed out onto the plate, he looked up at me and I could see the white blotches on his forehead signifying that someone was about to tote a cussing.
But who? Our server had disappeared again, and I was pretty sure she was watching us from some obscure corner, laughing.
Hubby grabs his plate and heads for the hostess station, and I kind of slump down in my seat. This is going to be bad.
After a lot of gesticulating with his hands, hubby comes back to the table. Ten minutes later our server reappears.
"Is there a problem?" she asks.
Hubby glares and I shake my head.
After another fifteen minutes, hubby's steak is returned by the manager, who stands over him while hubby cuts into it. It is, by the way, the same steak they had undercooked before. Now it was like shoe leather and hubby pushes his plate away, and asks for the check.
"I'm sorry. I'll take the steak off your bill," the manager says.
"Don't bother," hubby replies. "But, I do have a tip for our server."
I hurry and stand up, cutting him off. I know what he's going to say. But, it's too late. The server walks up to the table and hubby looks her in the eye and says, "We do have a nice tip for you and your efforts."
"Why thank you," she gushed sweetly.
"Find a new line of work," hubby growls and stalks off.
Find a new line of work indeed. Some folks can be servers, some can't, you know?