What’s the most natural thing most (non twelfth-grader) people do on a weekend night?
They go out and stuff themselves silly, without a word of complain, even if what they’re eating turns out worse than their mum whips up. (Wait… do I sound out of touch?)
It so happened this Friday that we fell into the same line of thinking and decided to go out for dinner.
I don’t know if we should have expected it to be crowded, but the sheer numbers amazed me.
We’d won the goddamned lottery.
Turns out, a team of office-goers had booked the restaurant for the night.
Two hundred and fifty of them, to be precise.
We were told that we had a better chance of getting a seat if we came back the next day.
Now this sounds familiar.
Like every hopeful kid who has poured their heart into their essays, we decided to try and wait anyway.
We were told we’d have to wait at least 45 minutes.
Hmmm… 50 seats, 250+ applicants… now what might their acceptance rate be?
Selectivity was high. Hence began the sizing up of fellow applicants, current students and alumni.
Retentivity was obviously high. And people were taking their time, for sure.
Between dad and my sister, twenty minutes were spent on quality commentary on a poor kid who was just taking too long with a dish.
Well, you heard what they said about idle minds.
Me, I was occupied with the match on the big screen. It’s cricket season again! (To be honest, when isn’t it?)
But heck, I’m observant.
There was another couple who had an issue with their bill. As dad watched them finally sign their scrap of paper with a flourish, I could see him almost tasting victory.
Anyway, this was one place I finally did get off the waitlist.
They were surprisingly efficient even with two hundred and sixty odd people (I mean odd in every way… I’m dreading office life already. Who knew the most diplomatic folks were the ones who let loose so completely?)
The food was good too, so the forty five minutes were worth the wait.
Makes me wonder if I should give dinners out another chance. Maybe it’s really not that hard to stop being lazy and allow your arse to get kicked out of the house every once in a while?
Goodness, us twelfth graders must be really lazy.
At any rate, if such situations happen to repeat themselves, I’m gonna land me a college alright!