You Have No Class!
I was eating lunch with Mango at Il Fornaio and we were enjoying ourselves. The food there is always good, and we love fresh bread, what can I say. If you ever get a chance, try the food; I think you'll like it.A family gets moved over to the tables next to us. I noticed that it's the same guy who was waiting by the hostess' table at the front of the house. He looks like the toy thief in Toy Story 2. Mango makes a mental note. He says, "We have a complainer."
They look high maintenance, and I go back to my bread. Dip in olive oil/basalmic vinegar. Repeat. Feel slightly full. The table next to us continues to chat away, and I notice that the littlest member, a girl probably about 6 years old, is drawing and is trying to get attention from her folks (they looked like her grandparents) who were engaged in a conversation with the couple sitting across from them. Dad snaps at the girl. Uncomfortable silence. I slurp my vegan minestrone soup. I feel bad for her.
As the meal progresses, the girl has to get up to use the bathroom. It's what kids do. Mom gets a little pissed. Dad is whatever, seems cheery enough. Time passes and now we're at the point where we're clearing tables. My plate is clean. Breakfast pizza is bomb. It gets taken away. Thank you. I appreciate it. I say. Mango says the same.
He returns and asks High Maintenance Granny/Mom if he can take her soup. She pointedly and rudely says, "NO YOU MAY NOT." The hair on my neck stands up. Fucking rude. I hate rude people. She goes back to her soup. I think of a million ways to say the same thing but nicely.
The waitstaff person, Melissa is clearly nervous around these people. I guess I figured this because she spills a drink and almost drowns Gramps/Dad. She's horrified and doesn't know what to do next. I'm stressin' over it for her. She gathers the table cloth, and he is all smiles, oh it's okay. Eventually they get up to leave, and Mango and I are relieved.
I ask the busser about what happened. I said, Excuse me, when you tried to take her bowl, I noticed that she was rude. I'm sorry you had to get that, but are people really like that here?
"Yes, you know." He has a thick Spanish accent. Not from Latin America. From Spain. "People like her, they think they're better because I am just a busser and she is a customer. But people like her, they have no class. I speak four languages. I am going to graduate from college. I'll have a BMW by next year. She's not better than me." He's heated.
I ask him in Spanish where he's from. Barcelona. But then he moved to Peru. Now here. He continues his rant, "You know I think it's where we are. The people here are like that. Very rude. They think they're better. But they're not."
I ask him in English if it's like that all the time. Dinner time, yes. Even worse.
I can't believe this shit. But Mango and I think about it. We are in a predominantly white neighborhood. We are the only brown people in this restaurant that's not behind the kitchen wall. And it's not the only time we've been the onlies. The night before the same thing. It's not overwhelming, but it makes you always wonder if you've walked into the wrong restaurant.
We wish him well, and say thanks to Melissa. We go to the front desk and talk to the hostess. "You know, I just want to tell you that the family next to us was out of control. If they complained about anything, it was them. Our service was good. Your staff was fine. They were out of line and rude. Please make sure your staff know that. They did a good job."
"They were really awful," she said, "they asked to get moved twice. they were really demanding and they did complain. But thanks for letting us know about your experience."
I hate people sometimes. Privilege has a way of pulling the wool over the eyes and giving you a sense of entitlement that you do not deserve. What's irritating is that they probably have no idea that they are being dicks, and enjoy a great amount of privilege without even realizing it. What boggles my mind is that the reality is that there are others. Plenty others.
Fuckers.
VDC
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