Order Update

Last month I wrote about my frustration of ordering at a particular cafe in my neighbourhood. I didn't have the guts to tell the super-high staff that what I was being served was unacceptable. The food was alright but it wasn't enough and it wasn't what I bloody ordered in the first place! Instead I politely ate some of it, left a tip, then got outta there. I should've told them to stuff themselves but I didn't. I have found that it is not just this cafe where this happens to me. I have a hard time speaking up in general.

A few weeks ago the bf and I were at a cafe and they served me an omlette made entirely of spinach and perhaps half an egg. Spinach is alright in small doses but this was inedible. I almost vomited after taking a bite. Bf said, "Just take it up there and tell them it isn't what you want." I couldn't do it. I'm such a silly, cowardly wuss! In the end he took my plate to the server and had them make me something else (which, by the way, was quite tasty compared to the plateful of boiled spinach).

But Today is the day I stood up for myself at a cafe. Finally! It's about bollocking time. Was at an old-school diner, healthy appetite in hand, and eyeing the french toast like a cheetah about to pounce. After ordering I sat happily with my mug of steamy coffee and book (The Good Earth Pearl S. Buck). I occasionally eavesdropped once or twice to the sporty lesbians on my right. "God, she had the most awesome first kiss with her! They were down by the Colorado river and it was sunny and beautiful and she said it just happened. I'm so jealous!"

Then my food arrived. And it wasn't what I ordered. Of course. But it was close! I was being presented with pancakes instead of french toast. A split second of hesitation on my lips and then I just blurted out before the waitress took off, "Thank you, but this isn't what I ordered. I believe I ordered french toast." Then smiled and hoped for the best. "Oh, I'm so sorry! They got yours mixed up with someone else's. Hold on."

Hurrah! *doing little celebration jig* I did it! The french toast was warm and cinnamony and exactly like I thought it would be. And I wouldn't have got it if I hadn't gathered my imaginary balls and spoke up. Progress, methinks.