How many of you have experienced the judgment of a snooty waiter or sommelier in a fancy restaurant? They seem to have a talent for wordlessly putting you down. Of course, this only occurs if you buy into their fantasy that their opinion of you actually matters. The following poem lays out the dynamic brilliantly.
| Verdict She named a likely brand of wine And thought she heard the waiter sniff As though detecting from her mind Some unpleasant malodorous whiff And when she pronounced the appetizer The waiter’s eyelid started twitching She swore he bared at least one incisor As he slid resignedly into the kitchen Their salads flowed like rapids down Waiter to the side, observing Frozen horizontal frown Blankly reliving something disturbing Then she the steak, her husband fish And the tendons in the waiter’s neck Some protocol or choice of dish Blithely, blindly incorrect A flashy dessert and a cup of joe He said “Of course” and turned a heel But his subtle tone had let them know How thoroughly they had failed the meal |
Copyright © 2010 by Dave Grossman
Medico Musings 