Posted by: jacksterja | 13 January, 2009

Return to Form

Wait for it….it’s welll over due…drumroll please…..

I’m about to have a whinge.

Actually it’s more of a two for the price of one kind of situation as I’m the story I’m about to tell actually contains two of my pet peeves.

On Saturday night a group of friends went out for one friend’s birthday dinner. It was an excellent restaurant with all sorts of Moroccan delights, good wine and fabulous service. It was a bit of a banquet set-up, where you pay a set amount and then add your drinks on top. Easy.

Apparently not.

It was quite a large group and not everyone knew each other. Have you guessed the punch-line yet? Of course we got to the end of the night and the bill was short. Not just “I didn’t feel like leaving a tip” short. Not even just “I’m a moron who can’t do addition” short, or even, “I’m colour-blind and I mistakenly put in a fiver instead of a fifty” short.

It was serveral hundred short. At minimum a couple of people must have not paid at all.

That sort of thing drives me crazy! who is it that thinks that that is OK? It’s stealing!@!! It’s stealing from your friends. How insensitive and greedy and SELFISH!!!!  If you really can’t afford it (and I’m being generous in assigning that motive, let’s face it), you know what? It’s optional to attend dinner. People understand or on occasion even offer to cover you.

So, after all the scandal of the non-paying guest(s) finally died down, the birthday boy requested a regroup at a bar across the road. As we were quite a large group, it seemed prudent to split up and enter in smaller groups.

4 of us headed over. I’d like to mention, at this point that I’d actually dressed for dinner and was wearing a frock and (to the amusement of many) my high-heeled party shoes. And make-up and everything! we were sober and well-dressed as a group.

We got to the door and the door-keeper asked if we were with a private function. We responded in the negative and were told that the place was booked out and we wouldn’t be able to go in.

Fair enough. It’s a Saturday night in the trendy part of town and these things happen. there was another bar on the next corner, so we wandered down there, assuming everyone else would encounter the same problem and have the same idea.

As we’re wandering, we look back to see another group of our friends heading for the door. We try to catch their attention to let them know they won’t be able to get in and to head in our direction…just in time to see them breeze through the door!

Now I know why they’re called door-bitches! How bloody rude. If we were misbehaving or underdressed or offensive in some way, fair enough, but we were none of those things. And what’s with the “private function” fallacy? If you’re not going to let me in, at least an honest reason is generally required. But a 19-year-old chippie on a power-trip? Please.

Beresford Hotel, you’re totally on my boycott list. At least until you stop hiring pretentious, lying door-cows.

It was time to call it a night.

epilogue: Thanks to the friends who heard what had happened, and stormed out without spending a cent and giving the evil power-tripper a serve on the way out!

Our friends called to ask where we were…in a taxi on our way home, was the answer.


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