Sometimes I feel like I just don't get people. Here are a few snippets from my night to help you understand what I mean:
Table 61 orders, tastes, then eschew two awesome reserve list bottles of Tempranillo, preferring the comparatively pedestrian one that we sell by the glass to the much older, more mature, more complex wine.
A party of six waits an hour and a half for a table and orders just six tapas when they finally sit down to dine. I mean, sometimes I drink more than I eat when I go out, but really? An hour and a half?
Table 64 demanded that I tell them exactly what to order. When I asked if they had any preferences, they replied, "We don't really care. We want whatever YOU think is best. We just want you to feed us."
Big tips were left all around, and all of these people were pleasant and charming. I loved serving them...I just didn't get any of them. Where was the scripted speech? Where were the obvious answers. It was like everyone in my section was playing stump the blonde...and competing to win!
Never a dull moment for this Toro blonde.
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