The other day, I had lunch with the editor of a Big Deal food magazine at a hot new restaurant in Beverly Hills. The editor, who does most of his dining in New York (when he's not supping at small country restaurants in Provence and Tuscany), was not impressed by the food. But his biggest problem was with the service.
If the service had only been uneven, it would have been tolerable. But in the midst of being bombarded with questions like "Who had the shrimp?," we had to deal with a manager who seemed to be suffering from a full-blown case of logorrhea (which is, in case the word isn't self-explanatory enough, an inability to stop talking). He missed no opportunity to stop at our table and ask if everything was "to our liking."
That was ok the first time. But since we had said that everything was just fine, it certainly wasn't ok to ask us the second time. And it was really not acceptable the numerous other times that he swung by our table to ask his favorite question. What was really strange was that as our responses to him became increasingly curt, his need to stand tableside and chat became almost obsessive – the man just couldn't stop interrupting our conversation. Which brings me to the point of this outburst: If something is wrong, I'll tell you. Otherwise, leave me alone. Leave everyone alone. If I want a friend, I'll get a dog. Thank you for shutting up. Any further questions?
– Merrill Shindler