Another evening, another meal out. We decided to try something a little closer than last time so we stuck to the suburbs. At first everything went swimmingly but as the evening progressed, the staff’s attitude changed a little.
When we had finished eating and were waiting for our plates to be cleared, I noticed that the waitress was busy talking to the pizzaiolo behind the counter. It was not a very busy night as there were a total of about 8 people including us. The two were chatting in Italian and were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice that three separate tables were trying to attract their attention.
The Soul Soother and I started debating whether we should skip dessert or not when one of the other patrons raised her voice to call for the bill. The waitress huffed and puffed and brought the paperwork over but not before moaning about how impatient people were. The patron was rather taken aback and started arguing with her about how long they’d been waiting, etc.
To add insult to injury, the waitress walked back to the pizzaiolo and started slagging off the customers in Italian, not realising that, perhaps, some people might understand her.
That’s the last time I go there.
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