Sometimes you just want a nice filet mignon, and you don't feel like cooking it. Most of the good steak places I go have a bar, and they don't mind serving you there. I just sit at the bar. Of course, sometimes, to some people, that might send an undesired message. So while I'm sitting at the bar, I scowl a lot. I just keep that scowl coming. I work it through its permutations. Pensive scowl, quizzical scowl. SCOWL OF PURE UNDIRECTED HATE!! It keeps the help hopping, and the unwanted sociables at a distance.
Of course the waitstaff already knows I tip well. It's probably more that than the scowl that keeps 'em hopping. Plus, maybe they just want to hurry up and get me out of there. I may tip well, but I'm not exactly good for business.
If anybody braves the scowl-created dead zone to strike up a conversation, I have this completely incomprehensible invented language I've been working on, that I revert to. It works much better than fake french or fake German - you can never tell who can speak what real language! Believe me, nobody can speak this language. Of course I have to be careful and pay attention - to make sure the person hasn't already witnessed me speaking English to the staff, or they'll just think I'm some kind of asshole.
Of course, I could just sit at a 2-top, and not be bothered. Nobody's going to walk right up to my table and start making small talk!
But it's more fun to sit at the bar.
2 comments:
Well, give us a piece of this invented language. A lot of people share your problems.
Hm. Interesting request. Complication is, I'm pretty sure it's purely spoken.
It hasn't even an alphabet!
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