Bobby and I tried a new, upscale restaurant last night and, despite earlier thunderstorms and looming clouds in the distance, we asked to sit outside on the patio. Halfway through the meal, the clouds had become very dark and ominous, and were moving quickly in our direction. Other customers started moving inside and as the wind picked up, our waiter checked in and told us to head inside and wait by the door while he prepared a table. Although he’d said we could leave all of our food, we still brought in our drinks.
Once we’d been seated indoors, we waited for the remainder of our food to appear. I had a feeling, however, that somebody thought we were done with them and took the dishes back to the kitchen; after all, we had already eaten three-quarters of the food. After five minutes of waiting, our waiter came over and asked if we’d saved room for dessert. “Um, we were still in the middle of our food,” I answered sheepishly. He looked panicked and hurried away, while another waiter swept in to bring us a new serving of the baguette chips and dip we’d been given at the beginning of the meal. Clearly nobody was on the same page; we thought we were in the middle of the meal, our waiter thought we were done, and the other waitstaff thought we’d just arrived.
Our server came back and, apologizing profusely, explained that our food had been taken away but that he was having new dishes sent out promptly. Neither Bobby nor I minded one bit – it was only a minor interruption and the waiter was perfectly nice about the issue. The dishes came, we polished them off, and enjoyed the complimentary dessert that was provided.
As we wrapped up the meal, I asked Bobby, “So what did you think of the food? Did you like it?” He replied, “Of course I liked it; I ate it twice.”