I ordered a "BBQ on a Bun" this week when I was out to lunch with a co-worker. What would you think you were getting with this order? Pulled pork? Pulled or shredded beef? Probably in a delicious southern sauce that you would need at least three napkins to clean up afterwords? These were my hopes.
What came to me on a plate was *slightly* different. I received two thick slices of an overcooked, slightly gristly pot roast, with pickles on top on a bun. I was a little confused. Looking at the tab, she wrote down my order correct, but something must have happened in the kitchen. Maybe it was leftover day. And is it really a BBQ if it has no sauce, and was cooked in a crock pot or in the oven? Also, have you ever had pickles with your pot roast? Me neither.
Maybe the waitress misunderstood me. Last week I ordered Honey Chicken somewhere else and I ended up getting Hunan Chicken instead. I think it's my Yankee, Western US accent. I find myself being very aware of all the syllables I say. Especially when most of the people around me are dropping about 60% of them. I can't start to drop syllables, or people will notice and I will sound lame by trying to be regionally "normal". The solution maybe to write down my order, have other people speak for me at restaurants, point or learn to be satisfied with my random, sometimes mediocre, meals that are brought to me.
2 comments:
You are so funny! You really should take on the pointing to the menu tactic. It may help out.
A couple things- first I love your pointless blog comments and I don't mean that as an insult. Second I laughed when you complimented my baby and not his clothes or ear size..it takes me back to our preschool conversations. I love it, love it. And I appreciate you understanding the beauty in a little rat tradition.
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