mortified

Last night, the OSW and I went to Karroll Skreet for our "Ladies Who Lunch" dinner. You know what? Good times and bum times, that place never disappoints. Sure, the experience is not always picture perfect, but there's something about that restaurant that always provides a good time. We sat at the bar (our table of preference), and our bartender (with whom we're familiar) was real, real out of sorts: forgetting things, dropping shit, errors on the bill -that sort of thing. When we asked if he was ok, he told us that he's been a little discombobulated since his daughter was born three weeks ago. I can forgive a few forgotten drink orders for someone who's dealing with a newborn baby...sleep, anyone?

We also chatted with the two girls who sat next to us at the bar. Well, the OSW and I actually didn't do much talking, but we sure heard every word they said. My GOD. In all honesty, I feel bad for so many women, because it seems that somewhere in their lives they were taught that in order to effectively communicate, that you have to whine and act like an idiot. These girls sounded like they were consciously trying to imitate Reese Witherspoon in "Legally Blonde." Knowing many, many women who do NOT suffer from this disease, I'm not afraid to make the comment and endure the endless "you can't make generalizations like that" emails. Spare me. Anyone with any sense of reason or intellect would have been just as bothered. Unfortunately, it was a crowded room and we couldn't move.

We chatted with Derwood, the adorable British manager of the place, and learned some details of his plans for the future, which sound amazing. It's inspiring to be around people who are excited and motivated by risky ventures; however, having been a loyal customer of his for several years now, I'm sure the risk will be minimal.

Upon leaving, an agitated waiter brushed past me and into the street. She stopped a few feet up the block, and I noticed that she was holding a small wad of cash, and wore an extremely disappointed expression on her face. As she walked past me, I asked if she had gotten stiffed on the bill. She said, "Worse...I got a $4 tip on a $75 bill." Now, it's been a LOOOOOONG time since I waited tables, but my heart instantly went out to this girl. Naturally, I don't know the whole story, but KS generally has a pretty with-it staff (newborn babies excluded), so I can only imagine that this girl was the victim of...how shall I put it?...Atlanta's more self-entitled customers. It was her attitude about the whole thing that most inspired me. She said, "You know, it sucks but I'm not going to go chasing people up the street over a little bit of money," and she went back in to work.

Never a dull moment at the Skreet.