There we all were, re-convened at the local restaurant after our Bible study. Feeling peckish, I chose a hefty burger, intending to follow up with some enhanced coffee beverage. Medium rare, please, sir.
"I'm sorry - we're not allowed."
That brought me out of my happy place right quick. You're not allowed? You mean, I'm not allowed. Why not?
"We got sued. Somebody in Long Island, or north somewhere. The grill won't prepare it any lighter than medium well."
Oy. It used to be that, if one gave instructions, one implicitly accepted the consequences. One chose to run the slight risk of some E. coli for a savory cow product. Nope, sorry - no risk allowed! All because some ridiculous killjoys decide that they're entitled to a reward for being a little unlucky. I know food poisoning is unpleasant - been there. But I wouldn't blame the restaurant unless I knew that they had handled the food improperly, an event that can make one sick even from the most-thoroughly-cooked item. If not, well, it's nobody's fault and I'll get through it.
Not any more. Now, I don't mind a well-done burger. It's not how I prefer them, but I'll eat it that way. The point is that, because of someone else, I can't be trusted to be an adult in a commonplace situation. I'm assumed to need protecting from my own choices.
I got a bowl of soup, a sundae, and water instead - my only possible protest - so I figure the restaurant lost ten bucks on the exchange. And no, I didn't stiff our server; it was hardly Josh's fault. Besides, he was very cool about it - he treated the sundae like a main course and gave me the "with entree" discount on the soup. That's a well-trained waiter, and a young man poised to make a mark for himself in the world.
4 comments:
Nightfly--
Thanks SO MUCH for the heads up on my latest post. I still don't know why the links didn't work -- some Internet ghost got in the word processing, so that even though the HTML was fine, it wouldn't work. I had to re-type everything by hand, but that's preferable to having folks try to click a link and getting frustrated. Thanks again for the help -- I enjoy you and your blog!
Y'all should come up to Red Bank and eat at Basil T's. They brew their own yummy beer, and no matter how you order the burgers they come out medium rare.
Arrghh! I HATE that. To me, a burger should be medium rare or I'll get something else. It's called "assumption of the risk" and it's a legal doctrine of perfectly long standing, certainly longer than "anybody but me is responsible for my own actions." Next time this crap happens, ask them if they'd let you have your burger medium rare if you signed a waiver of any potential liability. 100 to 1 says no one in the restaurant will know what to say.
Actually, I did ask if I could give them a note promising not to be a jerk (i.e., by suing). No deal. It is apparently not worth the huge headache. I'm guessing that besides civil liability, health regs would get them in trouble with the local komissars.
These would be first cousins to the komissars that have decided that I must wear a seatbelt and a bike helmet. (Hopefully nobody gets the fine idea of making us wear both at the same time, in case one of our forty-seven airbags doesn't fire when the car is bumped by a shopping cart.)
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