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Proper Dinner Conversation

A couple weekends ago during Car Care Weekend, Luke, The Wife, The Kid, and I went to Famous Dave’s. We all like BBQ, and I still believe Dave’s is as good as any other place if you just want some decent BBQ. Sure, there are a few knockout BBQ places that would beat the Famous one, but, well, none of them are as close to my house (by an order of magnitude) as Dave’s.

Anyway, we knew right off that our service wouldn’t be stellar. But we were surprised by the attentiveness our waitress gave the table next to us, populated by a couple guys just off the interstate. They arrived about twenty minutes after we sat down.

One of the fellas was a little more talkative than the other. He ordered some drink (I’m guessing iced tea), and asked the waitress to dip her finger in it to sweeten it up. For a side-order he chose beans with the editorial statement that he would “blow his friend out of the car.” Said friend also sided up some beans in order to “fight fire with fire.”

As the waitress came around to check on them, the talkative one described to her the joy of fried okra, lamenting that it did not reside on Famous Dave’s menu. He added that fried okra has the consistency of snot if not cooked sufficiently. And shortly before this pair left, Mr. Chatty mentioned that he would like to eat BBQ everyday, but it would probably give him a horrible hemmerhoid problem.

These baudy diners received their food approximately 6 times faster than we did. They also received their check before us (remember, they arrived twenty minutes after we did). And to make SBG supremely confident in the waitressing skills being displayed, we were asked how our food was tasting. My response was, “I don’t know, why don’t you ask it?” Nah, of course not.

Luke and I are such consistent tippers that we still had to give the young lady 10%, thinking that was somehow punishment. In retrospect I think I need to lower my tipping floor.