Mount Sutro: An Electronic Periodical

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The Talkative Waiter

by Archived Article (2001–2014) Help

Speaking of Village Pizza and Pasta, I was running an errand in that part of town a few days ago and decided to treat myself to dinner and a few beers. Unlike the last time I ate at this shopping centre eatery, closing time was not around the corner. Many other tables were filled with happy diners and the staff was obviously not going home anytime soon.

When I was getting out of my car I realised I had inadvertently parked in the same space I had parked in previously. Upon entry I was told to seat myself, so I entered the main dining room and made an assessment. From left to right: man dining alone, older couple, mid-aged couple finishing pizza but chatting with the waiter, family of four, random assortment of four and a table of two women. I decided to sit at the booth between the man dining alone and the older couple.

As soon as I sat down I again realised that it was this exact booth I was seated in during my previous visit. Can anyone say The Twilight Zone? The older couple behind be talked about their friends and family, breaking them down into categories like "still alive," "on the way out" and "six feet under." Their callous judgments and respectless attitude were overpowered only by the chatter from across the way.

There they are, the mid-aged pizza eaters looking to pay their bill. They have the check in hand, but are talking — excuse me, listening — to the incessant ramblings of their eighteen year old waiter. While the couple seemed generally interested in his unending banter, like they knew him when he was growing up or something, he continued on and on moving from topic to topic with paced breaks to allow the man an occassional few words. I was really glad I elected to sit as far away from them as I did.

I ordered the spaghetti with sausage ($7.95) which came with a salad and some of the best garlic bread rolls I have had recently. With it, a few Anchor Steam beers were enjoyed. When I was waiting for the waitress to bring me a box and the check, the waiter across the way finally finished chatting with those people and went back to work, allowing the diners to leave.

And people think I am crazy for so carefully selecting seats in a restaurant.

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