I did it! Fifty thousand words, which is turning out to be nearly exactly 'halfway' in the book -- I just finished the climax of the story, so halfway feels about right.
Actual word count is 50,614. Go me. \o/
Meanwhile, maestro, a little ranting music: The Girl and I went out yesterday for some home-goods shopping, dinner, and an evening in the bookstore. It was a bad pain day -- not helped along by the spectacular pratfall I took in the Target when a corner of the carpet was peeling up and I tripped on it despite the cane and managed to whack my spine out of alignment -- and I was pretty cranky, but it was nice to be out of the house. We picked one of those standard generic American chain restaurants for food, and ordered our appetizer well in advance of putting in the order for the actual food.
Out comes the appetizer. Three minutes later -- okay, I'm exaggerating; it might have been five -- the salad that came with my dinner came out. Okay, salad + appetizer, I can see where they're going with that. Not five minutes after that, the entrees hit the table. We were barely half done with the appetizer; my salad was nearly untouched.
And okay. I know that generic American chain restaurants aren't exactly the epitome of fine dining, but really -- has the art of pacing a meal been lost completely? There is nothing I hate more than being rushed through a meal, and having your entree getting cold in front of you and feeling pressured to finish the appetizer so your entree doesn't go all gross and cold is not the way to have a pleasant dinner.
We bitched at the waitress, who just sort of sneered at us and then dissappeared for the rest of the meal without even bothering to come back and check if we needed anything. It would have just been a minor annoyance, except this is the third time in the last three times we've been out to dinner that it's happened. I mean, come on, people. A little bit of timing here. The restaurant I grew up in may have been a tiny little diner/luncheonette, but even we knew about the importance of pacing a meal. I don't think it's too much to ask that I get a chance to finish my appetizer before my dinner's being shoved into whatever corner of the table has room.
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3 Comments
Next time, try telling the waitress you'll order your entrees when the appetizers get there and see what happens. :)
We've tried that before. For some reason, they usually get cranky.
And yeah, I know it's because they're trying to turn their tables fast so they can get tipped -- but man, getting rushed through a meal is the fastest way for me to drop my usual 20% (or more!) tip down to 15% or even (for egregious examples) 10%.
Maybe it's just me, but I've never actually had that problem. I wouldn't react well if I had.