Authentic Italian
The family and I decided to go and eat yesterday at the Olive Garden, near 60th and O St yesterday. It had been a long time since we had eaten at an Olive Garden and I actually was in the mood for some "pasta."
It wasn't the most pleasant of drives down O St. I had been berating my wife about her cousin, who has been making less than stellar life choices. Needless to say, wifey was less than thrilled to be stuck in a car with me. It was one of those situations were you feel that you need to say things, even though you know it's not going to make any bit of difference, but you just have to let someone know. Usually pissing them off at the same time. This was no exception.
So in the heat of the moment, we know just what will cheer us up. A pile of bread sticks, wading pool sized salad and the certainly not frozen and reheated food straight out of the world class Olive Garden kitchen!!! (I've worked in a 'restaurant' before. I know how it works. The 'World Famous' rack of ribs we sold were diligently made by taking the pre-cooked and frozen ribs out of a plastic bag, in a cardboard box, and lovingly placing them in the microwave. Aren't you glad you paid $20?)
As we were seated at our table, I had the feeling something was up. Someone who seemed to be the manager seated us at the table and told us "Spencer" would take GOOD care of us. Neat... my confidence in "Spencer" obviously skyrocketed.
Let me paint you a picture of Spencer. Imagine, high school star quarterback from small town Nebraska, moving to the big city, diddy-bopping around like he just partially shit a pogo stick out his ass. He is obviously God's gift to women. I bet he gets laid A LOT.
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| Hello, my name is Spencer! |
We order our food and I'm as indecisive as always. It seems that every time we've eaten at Olive Garden, the prices creep their way up another dollar. But I broke down and got the Tour of Italy, again, like always. I mean, it is about as authentic as flying your ass to Rome. It has Italy right in the name for fucks sake.
My wife gets the chicken parmesan and replaces the spaghetti with fettuccine alfredo. The kid, macaroni and cheese. Dipping sauce for the bread sticks. Easy, right? I remembered this, without any help, for over 24 hours now. I didn't even write it in my waiter notebook like it looked like Spencer did! He was prompt in taking our drink orders however. That is one thing I will give him credit for. And I am a waiter/waitress worst nightmare with drinks. I'll have that glass empty before it even hits the table... 4 - 5 times a meal. Its literally some David Copperfield shit.
After taking our order Spencer asks if we need anything else but then ran away as if he saw his sister lifting her skirt for another romp. He was across the restaurant before I could say, "More iced tea please." My wife and I exchanged looks saying, "Damn this was a good idea."
Spencer brought us out our "boat" of dipping sauce. What the Focaccia...? The "boat" has a drizzle of sauce on the bottom. Olive Garden really needs to change their menu to "wiping sauce." Maybe smearing sauce. There was definitely no dipping to be had.
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| Pretty Close to Accurate |
Finally, I get the "Home Coming King" to pay attention long enough to bring me an other iced tea. Now, a little fact about me, like most men, we don't use straws. Just looks a little too much like putting a long stiff one in your mouth and getting the sweet reward out the end.
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| Coincidence? I think not |
At no time did straw get place into my drink. But the "Heartland Heart-throb" sure as fuck brought me one, every refill. Once he even placed a straw on the table, picked up my empty glass, then picked up on of the 2 other old straws on the table. Genius!
Now our food arrives, which obviously was wrong. Do you remember what we ordered? So my wife asks him to bring out the right pasta and if we could get more of the wiping sauce. "I shit awesomeness" comes back a short time later with 2 condiment cups saying, "Uhhh... If I brought you out another "boat" I'd have to uhhhh.... charge you a couple bucks." Would you believe there was more volume in the 2 condiment cups that in the "boat." I should inform the Navy. I think I found away to end the national debt!
After such a great dining experience, "The Destroyer of Innocents" give us the check. Which he tells us, "I'm not trying to rush you, but I can take that now." I hadn't even opened the damn thing yet. We had enough. My wife tells him that we need a to go box, and a couple minutes. "Mom's still waddling from me last night" returns with the to go box; like he fucking sprinted. I think he got excited when he heard another woman who wasn't related to him say "box." We paid the bill and left. Despite my better judgement and the glaring looks from my wife, I gave him a dollar.
Hopefully he will use that dollar for some condoms or a vasectomy. I should have kept it and gave him a swift kick to the nuts. Then I know I would have contributed to his possible lack of reproduction.
Thanks for allowing me to pay for that awesome experience Olive Garden. But most of all....
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| For Spencer L. |
