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10.17.2004

Follow-Up to Last Night

We ended up eating at Lucca Lucca, where we waited in line for what felt like forty minutes, if not more. I think we were supposed to have Sarah's roommate as our server, but that didn't happen, and we got some guy.

First he poured me some water, that as I went to drink, I noticed a fly swimming at the top of, and told him immediately. He grabbed the glass, poured it out, possibly rinsed it and brought me back the same glass. I didn't drink from it the rest of the night (damn I sound prissy). I ordered Sprite.

He took our orders, and as it turned out, 4/5ths of the table (including me) ordered Spinach Ravioli ($8.25). If I hadn't been so fuckin' hungry (having not had anything but Wild Oats samples all day) I would have put in for a Panzini (I'm told it's Calzone-like in nature), but that would've taken 30-40 minutes, and I wasn't going to wait any longer.

Minutes later, we were brought cold bread. A travelling person poured us a plate-ful of oil, which confused most of us, because normally you get oil and vinegar. Where was our vinegar? We flagged someone down and ended up pouring it ourselves because the guy looked dumbfounded when we even suggested it.

We complained amongst ourselves at the cold, unchewability of the bread. And after having finished it off, ordered more. After a few minutes, we ordered bread again. And again, this time being told they were making some fresh bread, and that it would be out shortly. Another table got bread, and so we ordered again. We were brought what we were told was fresh bread, but alas, it too was cold. We hypothesized over their bread-cooking method to hilarious ends - the best was "taking it out of the freezer and microwaving it, before putting it in the fridge to cool off."

Our food came, and the server (this time female) asked if there was anything we wanted. Along with three drink refills and more bread, we asked for cheese. We got all we asked for promptly... except the bread. I think there's a bread conspiracy.

Anyway, we all dug in, only to discover our food sucked. We all quipped about how Chef Boyardee and a microwave make food of this quality. Very disappointing.

In the end, the bill for five people was fifty-one dollars and change. Based on the service I received, and the cost of my meal ($8.25) I put in $9.00, which was a tip of somewhere between eleven and nineteen cents. You may think that's harsh, but one person had to get up from our table, and physically track down our waiter... THREE times. Which is absolutely unacceptable in my book to have to do even once.

The food sucked, which is by no means the waiter's fault. But come on, we had to order bread six times to get it twice. We had to get up to get him to bring us the check. We had to get up to get him to get listen to us tell him how we were paying for it - he left in the middle of us telling him what we were doing.

Again, I felt my money wasn't good enough for a waiter because I was a college student. It was assumed I would leave a shitty tip anyway, so why bother giving me decent service. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you give a college kid shitty service, because you think you're going to get a shitty tip, you're going to get a shitty tip. And of course, this just perpetuates the mindset.

Oddly enough, I haven't had this happen with a waitress yet, only with waiters. And people wonder why I prefer to have waitresses. Go figure.

I shan't be eating at Lucca Lucca again unless I'm forced to go for someone's birthday. Next time, we eat at the Olive Garden, and I give Bentley a piece of my mind, and then switch tables into someone else's section.

After the terrible dining experience, we went back to Sarah's place, and channel surfed until settling upon Child's Play, at which point she decided it was time to take us home. Upon returning to ye olde apartment, I took to reading about Postmodernism immediately, and even got through 12 pages before deciding I needed to go to bed - I was so tired.

Against the odds, I read upon getting home. But didn't finish it. Damn!

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