Well, I can’t possibly make things any worse.
Can I? I feel reckless.
It’s the economic situation, the cost of fuel, the war and now with the threat of fuel rationing… before long, there ain’t going to be anybody driving out to rural pubs.
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I’m currently focused on getting the spend up and making sure we have the funds to cover the ever-spiralling costs.
Making sure the prime services are maximised is key.
A couple of Saturdays ago, we had a couple booked early evening, I wanted the order quickly so we could get the table back later on.
The first diner ordered a starter, no main course.
This is becoming more of a common occurrence especially with the weight loss jab situation, my heart sank.
The second, wait for it, ordered a packet of plain crisps.
Bit rude
Now this isn’t unheard of, sometimes diners order a bag of peanuts as a starter or even a bowl of chips, though this is also less common since the dawn of Mounjaro.
I paused waiting for the main course.
None came.
I couldn’t help myself, “aren’t you eating tonight?”
The companion looked a bit embarrassed and tried to encourage diner two to order some food.
“OK, I’ll have some olives.”
I repeated the order back to emphasise the futility of it all “so a packet of crisps – plain, and some olives”.
Lovely.
“No hold the crisps.”
I’d upgraded him to some olives at the expense of the crisps!
I feel a bit mean saying this but surely if all you want is a bag of crisps, it’s a bit rude to book a table on a Saturday night? Especially somewhere that’s a bit challenged on the number of tables front?
Making sure every seat pays on a Saturday night is fundamental and it can make or break a week (unless you’re the Devonshire, of course, in which case every night’s a Saturday!).
Sigh...
No main course
The following Saturday, we had an MP in.
I’d not met him before but I knew who he was.
He didn’t make eye contact or make any effort to enquire how business was.
Now I get that people are entitled to private time but I didn’t ask him to put himself forward for public office, he chose to do that himself and with that comes a certain expectation of how you conduct yourself in the public domain – you only need to look at recent news to be aware of that.
He was sitting in the prime seat (you know the one next to the toilet door – the one Giles Coren had been keeping warm only a few days beforehand), glued to his phone throughout the meal, looking at his Instagram account to see how many likes he had or probably Googling his own name to see what came up.
Yes, we are well placed when serving at the table to see exactly what you’re looking at without being spotted.
His table also did the starter thing with no main course.
At the end of the meal there was no tip. As my granny would say: “Nix, naught, nowt.”
As they left, I briefly thought about giving him a few tips of my own but instead I smiled and politely thanked him for coming.
This Government is completely TONE DEAF.
Beam me up Scotty, there’s no intelligent life down here…
