Are We Just Not Dining-Out People?

The other night, we decided to go to a restaurant in our local mall for dinner because they advertised a special on a dish we hadn’t had in a long time. The email I received also advertised a $7 martini. 

We always have some trepidation when going out to eat, because it seems that we are often let down. Gone are the days when we were young and we assumed that restaurants could do a better job of feeding us than we could ourselves. Eventually, I became adept at cooking whatever we want (except baked goods). What I make is cheaper, usually better quality, and I know the state of cleanliness (or lack thereof) in my kitchen. 

The special we were seeking ran from July 3 through July 7, and the first time I dragged Jim there it was only June 28. I’m bad at reading fine print, obviously. We went ahead and ordered something else, including appetizer and dessert. About $150 later, we rolled out of there with satisfied stomachs that felt as if they contained lead balls and that feeling continued all night long. . . 

When we finally showed up on the right day, they tried to seat us in a high-traffic area, we requested a quieter table, and they were able to accommodate us. The new table was closer to the kitchen though, and I had to ask Jim to switch seats with me, so I didn’t have to see the dirty dishes. Oh dear. My neurosis is showing.

When the person came to take our drink order, I told her I’d like the $7 martini and she informed me that this is Pennsylvania and that this special cannot be fulfilled here. What? They also couldn’t just give us a discount on the drink because it wasn’t happy hour anymore and it’s against the law to give discounts on booze outside of happy hour. And plus, the computer wouldn’t let them. 

Oh, that is such a pet peeve of mine when people tell me they can’t do something because a computer won’t let them. . . 

So, Jim had a beer, and I just had water. I really didn’t need that martini, and I wasn’t about to pay full price for the martini after I came in expecting to only pay $7. No way, man.

While were sitting there waiting for our food, a coat tree behind me fell over. Not a small coat tree mind you. Jim said if there hadn’t been a wall there, it would have slammed into me. . .

Now, mind you, the drink taker and our server and everyone else we encountered were all very nice, especially when. . . 

Oh, yeah, Jim went to pick up his water glass and it broke in two. The bottom part stayed on the table, the water went on his lap, and he was left holding half a glass. We should have just stayed home, right?

Well, the bar manager came over while someone else employed about a hundred cloth napkins to sop up the water. She was so apologetic and told Jim to order whatever he wanted. “Really,” she said. “WHATEVER you want.” Well, we really just came for that special, and we weren’t out to take advantage of anyone, so I suggested they give him a free dessert, which she cheerfully agreed to. And his meal would be free. Nice. 

A few minutes later, our server told us that this breaking of glasses is a known issue with their restaurant’s barware and that one night, he saw two people’s glasses separate at nearly the same time at two different tables. That is so disheartening to me because it seems that these days, many businesses cut corners at the expense of the safety of their employees and customers. This was a nice restaurant, too. I mean, they had CLOTH napkins!

Anyhow, the rest of the experience was fine. The meal was pretty good (although the fruit cup was a bit old). Jim got carrot cake to take home and the experience cost about a third of what we had paid there a couple of weeks ago.

I think that because we don’t go out to dinner that often, my expectations are much too high. I think if we went out to dinner more often, we would have more positive experiences to water down these types of disappointments. Or, maybe we just aren’t dining-out people. Or maybe dining out is just plain disappointing in general these days. 

What do you think?

Note: I didn’t mention the name of the restaurant, but if you really want to know, you can message me.