We went out to [[semi-snotty corporate restaurant chain]] last night. It was after our Sunday meeting, so we were dressed up. Had the kids with us. So we got seated back by the kitchen--which is actually fine with me. It makes me less nervous about sudden bursts of volume from our little critters when we're back in the clatter zone. But I got the instant impression our server was bummed to be stuck with us. It's like we had two strikes against us:
1) Parents with kids = Needy + Baaaad Tippers.
2) Church people = Prissy, demanding, stingy, fundie, tip-scrooges.
I feel like I want to pull out a laminated, folded table tent card when we first sit down, that says "We tip 20%", just so we can clear the air and enjoy mutual happiness. But that's in poor taste--although I don't know why I should let that bother me, goodness knows...
As much as I want to dispel the unfortunate stereotypes, there's no way to escape the "needy" label. We've trained our kids to have depressingly limited food palettes, obviously. As Chris Yetman puts it: "the tan food". Breaded chicken, french fries, lipton noodles, grilled cheese, you get the picture. Well, with my kids, even that isn't safe. If the noodles in the macaroni are too big, or the bread on the sandwich is an eighth of an inch thicker than normal, we might as well be trying to feed them cyanide. Well, Giselle ordered this little kid-sized pizza. I should've known better. Apparently, the sauce didn't have the right amount of MSG in it, and there was much plaintive weeping while Harrison happily scarfed down his chicken strips. People were turning around trying to figure out why this poor little girl was crying like her Dad just told her that her puppy was going to have to be put to sleep. Oy. Another order of chicken strips, please!
Does anybody else feel strange pulling McDonalds burgers and Fries out of their coat pockets at a restaurant where you want to eat in peace?
I can sympathize, but we've been really lucky. Little Emma eats just about anything except green olives and green bell peppers. We're remarkably lucky in that respect.
That said, there are times when she just has to have the ONE THING that isn't anywhere close to hand. Then, it's just a bawlfest until we can find the Goldfish, or a banana, or whatever it is THIS time. :)
This being Flagstaff, maybe the waitress was just bummed because it's been a year since she got her PhD, and she's still a waitress.