why their margaritas sell so well
Aside from having a rapidly advancing social calendar, not much else was notable about work yesterday. A few IMs to a few people and a few incoming evites have pretty much filled my dance card for the week.
After work I’d planned to go shirt shopping at Marshall’s, since I like having more shirts for work, but honestly I see no need to pay through the nose for shirts that I’m wearing here. Not that I don’t buy ones that float my boat and can be worn elsewhere, but I’m not buying $50 dress shirts when I don’t have to wear a tie or suit with them. I roped Jenifer into meeting me there for shopping and dinner and we both ended up with some shirts, and I bought some new undies (trying to move away from boxers, they’re comfy but just don’t make me feel hawt & sexxy) and a belt, I always get a belt, and always have to go through the in-store ritual of removing my own, since I never remember what size belt I have on.
We decided to have dinner at Chevy’s. I used to have an ongoing love affair with Chevy’s, when I worked for OAO in Greenbelt, there was a Chevy’s right in the little shopping center next to us and we’d go for lunch all the time. And very often we had nearly nothing to do in the office, so we’d make them liquid lunches and they had the supersized margaritas glasses and I loved the Blue Agave one *yum*. Service was great, food was great, we were sloshed and we’d stumble back to the office and giggle quietly at every joke like boarding school kids who’d just smoked a joint in their room.
Oh how times have changed. Last night we were seated very quickly, and our initial drink orders were taken promptly, and I’m glad that I’m out of synonyms for fast as I won’t need any more to describe the rest of the dining experience.
Menus intimidate me, they always have. Too many choices, all of them sounding good, so I often take a bit of time. But inside, I’m secretly convinced that if you send the server away after the first time they come to ask if you’ve decided, they’re never coming back. The only difference is if they ask if you’d like anything to “start out.” Then they’ll return, but otherwise you must find them in the restaurant, wave a hand in the air, make the eye contact with the raised eyebrows maneuver or if it’s a more casual place and they’ve made the mistake of giving me their name, I just call it out, loudly to get their attention.
So we’d finished our sodas, were lightly munching at the chips and salsa and ready to order. Roped down the server, made our orders and waited… and waited… our glasses empty, the chips losing their appeal, our conversation making up for the lack of sodas for a while. And then one of the server boys spilled soda or tea on the table to the left of us, and the customer had the most sour look on their face, even though I think only one moderate sized drop got on their pants. Still you could tell that their evening was ruined. The table behind me was getting margaritas by the trayful according to Jenifer and they were a buncha-guys-talking-guy-stuff but not all that annoying.
Our food arrived, our sodas still not yet refilled and when she asked for the refill she was a bit touchy about it, but I felt it was warranted. The food was ok, not really great, but certainly not bad. In the midst of our meal the buncha-guys piped up with a loud comment on their justified fear of a gay guy hittin’ on ’em, and I thought, how can this experience possibly get any worse? — wait for it — So we finished our meal (we did get refills on the sodas evenutally) and the check arrived, I gave my card and it came back, the signature sheet with a much lower total than our bill. And I was thinking, we didn’t complain, but hey he reduced our bill anyway! Then I matched it up and couldn’t figure out what he removed, then I saw that our table number didn’t match the one on our check. So I point out that he charged my card for the wrong party and to please bring us our check. I didn’t think that I needed to say and please make sure my card isn’t charged for the wrong table. After a quick look at my B of A account, I was charged twice at Chevy’s and neither amount is what I wrote down as total, so that’ll be some fun phone calls this morning.
The worst thing about having a bad service experience is that usually by the time you realize you’re really not having a good time, it feels too late to just get up and leave, settling whatever your problems are with the manager. So then every minute after that feels like hell, you feel like you’re never getting out of there. Ah well, I don’t expect 5-star service when I eat at a slow-food-chain restaurant, but it did give me something interesting to write about, at least. 🙂