The other night my family took a trip to a nationwide restaurant that prides itself on providing over-salted and artery-clogging fare with a huge glob of stereotypical Australia thrown in. My parents had gift certificates that were about to expire, so we ventured to the only restaurant on Earth where the salads are less healthy than the french fries. I’m still not exactly sure how one would go about deep-frying a salad, or why someone would be inclined to cover said salad in a pound of bacon that had been soaking in ranch dressing (which had been made from lard and a packet of dried ranch flavoring) and then cover the whole thing in ranch dressing again just before serving the whole thing in a bowl of ranch dressing with ranch dressing on the side. But hey, who am I to argue about how Australians prepare their food?
And because it’s a nationwide chain, the company has little incentive to hire anyone but the lowest common denominator of employee. I’m sure there are some talented people working tables for them, but they’re few and far between. Our waiter was particularly odd. He pluralized every person. He kept asking, “Do we know if we want any appetizers?” and “Is there anything else someone can get for us right now?” What the fuck, dude? I know WE want appetizers, but I have no idea if you want any. Maybe you should get your own. And it would be helpful if you could get more drinks for us right now. Last I checked you were the waiter and we were the patrons. This isn’t come sort of hippie communist reach-around restaurant, is it?
Even weirder, he then continued using “we” and “us” when he would speak to one person in particular. Like, “Do we need more water over there?” or “Do we need more lemons in our iced tea?” Seriously man, what the fuck? I need more water, you can get your own. I’m not sharing with you, weirdo.
There were other things as well. For example, his affect was completely flat. It was as if he was born without the ability to have emotions. I think at one point he tried to smile because he just stood there and stared at us. Maybe he thought he was being quite the gregarious server. He really just looked creepy. It was like an extremely lifelike robot kept asking “Do we want to add a lobster tail to any of our entrees?” (And by the way, what the fuck is that about? I just got a chicken sandwich. Why the shit would I want a lobster tail on top of it? That’s retarded.)
He also seemed unfamiliar with the whole process of being a waiter. When he was passing out plates for the appetizers, or drinks for everyone, he just kind of stuffed his hand into the air above the center of the table and waited for someone to take whatever he was holding. But he was doing it really quickly, so as soon as we pulled a plate out of the air there would be another one up there waiting for us all the while he’s rapidly eyeballing everyone at the table in an attempt to figure out which of us would be taking the plate. He would administer a two-second eye-fucking and then jump to the next person to do the same thing. I have no idea what his issue was, but it was the weirdest waiter we’ve ever had.
We almost wished he wouldn’t come around to check on drinks every few minutes because that was just another chance for him to “we” himself into our family, and then “us” himself into our drink, and then exhibit absolutely no emotion whatsoever leaving him staring vacantly somewhere through the middle of our table while stuffing drinks into the air above the table waiting for someone to grab them as he went on a merry-go-round of expressionless eye-fucking.
I guess I can only assume all Australians are like that.
It is apparently too early for me to come up with a witty anecdote or sage advice, so all I’ve got is: if you left him a tip you are a pussy.
Bloody bogan bastatd
Kaneda- My father paid, and he tipped. It wasn’t the waiter’s fault he was born without a personality.
kate1976- Me, or the waiter?
Reminds me of the asshat waiter in Office Space. Was he wearing flair?
Glad I missed that affair.
I was born with out the ability to express emotions. Well more built than born. What do we think of that?
Dammit. Jules beat me to the Office Space joke. Grrrrrr.
“Do we know if we want any appetizers?” and “Is there anything else someone can get for us right now?”
You have just made my blood boil.
ACW, when I come visit let us revisit the establishment and squash the bug into the flooooooor!!!!!!!!
Mmmm, I could go for some Alice Springs Chicken right now, with an extra side of Honey Mustard in which to dip my fries.
I’m convinced they make they’re croutons with 1 part bread crumbs and three parts butter. Then they have kangaroos or illegal immigrants pack them into little squares. Yummmmm!
You should have spoken with your best fake accent, and tried to convince him that you get a discount for being a native.
A friend of mine and I go for coffee once a week and we always go late, so we end up at Denny’s (I know, I know… but it’s the only place open until 3 am). For the longest time we had to go out of our way to stay out of one section of the place. They had this waiter who was the creepiest fucker I’ve ever met. And worse… he thought we were buddies. (We called him Lurch, not only because of his behaviour but because he looked like a three day old corpse. I kept expecting him to come to the table and say “You rang?”)
Creepy waiters just make everything awful and uncomfortable.
but kookaburra wings are so delicious!
At least he didn’t sit down at the table with you.
I once had a waiter stick his thumb into my cheesecake as he was serving it. I noticed he had very long nails. Needless to say, the cheesecake went uneaten.
Hardly Australian. In fact dressing flavoured dressing with extra ranch is about as American as you can get. Slapping Grade Z meat from the reject California variety and calling it Toowoomba steak or Dubbo this or Coolongatta that is hardly representative of an Aussie. In fact it’s more representative of your average American who can point to most of the 50 states thanks to the champion UPS map, and maybe Afghanistan; but nothing more outside of the Pacific or Atlantic.
The funniest part of the episode was venturing as far to call the place a restaurant…
There we go. Aussie Bash 1. Yankee Bash 1. We’re even.
wow. i think your waiter was even crappier than the waiter i always get at the mexican restaurant who’s always high and severely confused.
you should have had some fun and messed with him though
I’m just trying to work out how any of those foods is Australian. Ranch Dressing? Honey Mustard? Iced Tea? Calling things eaten at the start of a meal Appetisers? All of that is completely American. Now if he had flashed a big knife at you and said “That’s not a knife” I might have been convinced.
I was talking about the waiter not you!!! You are quite fab!
YOU should have pulled a big knife when he asked if there was anything else we’d like someone to heist his ass off and get.
“Yeah, you got four more of these?”
It’s good to see Paul Hogan working again.
At least those Aussies have got Cate Blanchett.
Jules- He had no flair. None whatsoever. Anywhere. At all. In any capacity. He was dull.
DJ- I would have been better with you there.
Antonio- I think it’s great. I don’t care what we think.
CruiserMel- It’s okay. You get half credit.
Poppy- That’s okay, I’d just rather not visit the place again.
S. Reed- I swear we’re long lost relatives. I also typically go for the Alice Springs Chicken with extra honey mustard for the fries.
Jay- I figure they probably get that from every other table, so I kept it to myself.
Gwen- Yeah, it sort of put the whole meal off.
Kendra- The bloomin’ onion is the only appetizer for me.
Aliecat- Were there room at the table he probably would have.
Jessica- Oh, hey what’s that? A little vomit in my mouth!
Mick- Ha! Yeah, there’s nothing remotely Australian about the place. It’s a complete bastardization of a culture for the benefit of simple-minded Americans. Just another excuse to deep-fry something and cover it in ranch dressing and pretend we’re cultured. I can’t imagine any fans of the restaurant would be happy with the food if they ever ate in Australia.
Also, I think it’s important to note that most Americans CANNOT identify all 50 states, much less find Afghanistan. We’re a country of people so stupid that we don’t even know where WE live.
Violet- I wouldn’t have wanted to mess with him. He might have come back with even less personality.
theotherbear- None of those foods are Australian. It’s as if you went to an “American” restaurant in Australia and they served jaffas and vegemite. Also, regarding your knife comment: HA!
kate1976- Phew! I was nervous there for a second.
Pandora- He probably would have just gotten four more knives and returned them with a completely blank stare.
MD- Ha ha ha ha!
Angy Hangy- True. And we’ve got Rosie.
By the way, I said Zed. Awesome multi-threaded-rebuttal thingy response at the end there mate.
Ah yes. The days of a waiter. Sadly though, eye-fu*king doesn’t get you as far in the corporate world.
sounds like a turkish restaurant i went to
all the dishes were named after cities and towns in turkey.
i don’t think there is such thing as Istanbul Lamb, or Izmir Chicken.
*sigh*
Really, they should have just served you some sausages and steak with a bun, potatoe salad and some beer. Aussie Beer, not that shit you call beer in the US.