Stabby’s Corner with Erica S. Vol. II.

This lunch actually happened a few weeks ago, but I forgot to post this entry. Woops.

The Boundary is more than an important landmark in a great fantasy novel whose name I can’t remember....

Melanie and I went out to lunch today! She was very happy. I was not. But not because of the looming one hour with the sister. Rather, work has made my feet a constant reminder of how much it sucks to stand for hours straight, and walking almost two miles in flip flops in 90 degree heat with 60% humidity right before lunch does not a happy Erica make.

That aside, we went to lunch. Melanie took me to some place called “The Boundary.” For a sports bar, it was nice. Big, commercial looking bar and lots of flat screen TVs. Score one for The Boundary? AIR CONDITIONING. And lots of it.

Our server walked up in an inappropriate sundress that showed off her weird, long boobs. I couldn’t help but stare. Neither could you, so don’t even think a judgmental thought.

Melanie and I place our order for two sodas, a buffalo chicken wrap, and fish tacos (I can’t even think the words ‘fish tacos’ without thinking of Pineapple Express. Melanie didn’t get the reference). I’m not really here to comment about the food. That’s more Melanie’s arena. But let’s just say we were 1 ramekin of blue cheese dressing shy, and about three pounds of melted cheese on my tortillas heavy. But we ate it, and mostly enjoyed.

Moving on to what I do best…

Let’s examine server Long Boobs. We saw her exactly four times. Let’s make a list! I like to be organized.

1. After watching her chill at the bar, chatting with the cute bartender and drinking her soda, she ambled over to our table where she didn’t really greet us. We ordered.
2. Sodas.
3. Our food was taking a bit longer than usual, so she told us it would be out in just a minute.
4. As we were walking out the door, she said goodbye.

Now, hopefully, since most of you aren’t idiots, you noticed that most of the basic sequence of service is missing.

Not there to refill soda. Not there to see if we had everything (we didn’t). Not there to drop the check. Not there to run the card and bring it back.

I could make another tasteless joke about how she was so slow because she was tripping over her weirdly long and saggy boobs, but I won’t (didn’t I just…?) Instead, I’ll just say what I always say that 85% of the time gets me an eye roll.

“How hard is it to give good service? Answer: Not that hard!” I stand firmly by this statement, and will test my punching strength if anyone wants to argue. Be warned: I owned a punching bag like 4 years ago. And I used it at least five times in 18 months.

If I were Melanie, I would give this place 2.5 out of 5 sides of ranch that cost 50 cents for food, and 1 out of 5 strained sundress straps for service. But since I’m not Melanie, I’ll just say that I’d only go back there if I was drunk on Division and wanted a beer from their attractively niched beer taps.

And before you ask, no, I didn’t stab her. Or anyone.