I recently had a delicious, but traumatic meal at a semi-classy, somewhat famous restaurant in another state. I’m assuming you would like to hear all about it.
How do I know the restaurant was semi-classy and somewhat famous?
First, the wall by the cashier featured framed photographs of both Barack Obama and a World Wrestling Federation wrestler known as The Rock.
Second, the menu contained more than 220 individual items, not counting daily specials, countless substitutions or the oxtail soup that is only available on Fridays.
Plus, if you order one of several Sumo-sized meals, such as the Sumo Loco Mocos, which includes six scoops of rice, four slices of Spam, three eggs and gravy – all for $18.95 – the waitress will clang a gong and all the people in the restaurant will together shout “SUMO.” Based on the photos by the cash register, at least one of the two men mentioned in the previous paragraph have had this experience.
I reviewed every item on the menu. As per usual, I ordered a hamburger. It was delicious.
Then the traumatic thing happened.
As my group was finishing, our waitress approached the table. “Is anyone here 55 or older and interested in the 10 percent senior discount?” she asked, looking at no one in particular.
I looked around the table. Sitting next to me was my husband. Across from us was a 14-month-old baby in a booster seat and his mother.
Of course I wanted the discount. But I had so many questions.
First of all, would it apply to the entire check? A senior discount on a child’s order of chicken fingers didn’t seem right.
Or was the discount just for people who were over 55? I mean, if it were just for seniors, the most you could save is $1.89. And that’s only if you had the wherewithal to order the Sumo Moco Locos.
But I couldn’t worry about that. I was too paralyzed by the question that truly terrified me: Exactly who in our party did this waitress THINK was 55 or older?
It couldn’t have been the mother and son. They couldn’t have been more than 32, combined. That only left me and/or my husband.
Surely she was referring to my husband, right? Surely she had sized us up and assumed I had married a much older man.
If not that, then what? Was it because we were eating dinner at 4 p.m.? Because that was purely a coincidence. We hadn’t come looking for an Early Bird Special. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Honestly, we prefer it.
Surely she didn’t think we were the baby’s grandparents. Because we weren’t. Yes, we are old enough to be. But that’s not the point.
The point is, I didn’t ask. Some questions are better left unanswered.