There's a restaurant that we often go to with the same group of friends. It's casual, comfortable, affordable, and has varying ranges of service. Some nights are good, and some nights aren't. Over many visits, we have developed a running joke about an invisible button that rests on the table, which we can push, to send an electric shock to our server, much like an errant dog who wanders behind his property line, and gets shocked by his collar.
Before you get all preachy on me, you have to know I was once a server, we're just joking, and who would ever invent such a thing?
Well, RF Tech Co, Ltd, now 10 years old, is bringing The Link Man to America.
This silent caller is advertised as the latest in technology. The system, consisting of a sender and a receiver, allows customers to 'privately, discretely, and accurately summon waiters.' Customers push a button on their table, and the wireless system digitally displays the table number requesting service back to the server, who is out of sight.
OK, an electrode in the server's brain doesn't send a painful shock, followed by the sound of dropped dishes from the kitchen, but the principle is the same. Sort of.
Anyone who has been on the receiving end of poor service in a restaurant (and who hasn't?) knows how frustrating the whole experience can be. But, as one of the millions who have been on both sides of the equation, I can tell you that it's frustrating for both parties. Is it any wonder that the following urban legend has made the rounds from first-time server to first-time server over the years?
In the Cayman Islands a few years ago, a very wealthy sheik from the Middle East took over a restaurant in a hotel for a week so that his entourage would have privacy. He arranged with the hotel to pay a flat fee (greater than the average week's totals) so that no money would be exchanged daily. One waitress served the sheik and his entourage from Monday through Thursday and received no tip. Another waitress served them on Friday only and received $500. After the sheik and his party left, the first waitress was apparently upset, believing that she should have been given part if not most of the $500. She complained to her manager who replied by giving her an envelope from the big guy with $10,000 and a thank you for the service.
Yeah, right. But, it keeps you going after you've been stiffed, or spilled on, or burned. Maybe that next jerk who gives you constant grief is just making you work a little for your 15 grand.
I've heard a lot of people bristling lately, at the idea of tipping just about anyone who does anything for you. They don't have to come to your table, or bring you your food. There are tip jars at every Starbucks, and while I'm happy to offer my change, I'm always amazed to see all those dollar bills in there. Surely they can't all be prompts from the staff. Who can afford to give dollar bills after paying $4 for a cup of coffee?
Apparently, not everybody, as tip jars have begun to creatively state their purpose. It's not uncommon to find coffee cans asking for spare change at counters in small towns, usually as a college fund, or maybe so the band can order new uniforms.
That's not the case in the big, bad city, where the following slogans were gathered:
'TIPPING IS NOT A CITY IN CHINA'
'DO NOT ANGER THE GODS! TIP HUGE!'
'If you fear change, leave it here.'
'Support Counter Intelligence.'
'Thanks a Latte!'
'Mochas Gracias.'
'Tipping, it's not just for cows any more.'
'A tip or a kiss ... your choice!'
'Good tippers live longer.'
'Please tip ... if I can't pay rent, I'm going home with you!'
'Help me support my 27 children ... Please tip!'
OK, not real subtle, but if you object to all the pleas for tipping, you can refrain. Or, you can tip only when there's something to tip about, not only when you want to rid yourself of the extra change. If nothing else, all this sloganeering is at least better than a shock collar.
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Pizza Time
When I was in junior high, a cheap paperback was passed around, student to student, and captured the zeitgeist of 13 year olds in its scandalous pictures. No, it wasn't a collection of photos of naked women.
I mean, why would I have been so interested?
This book was a supposed expose of the advertising industry. Theoretically unimpeachable information was relayed about the dangers of print ads on the unsuspecting public. First there was the image of the woman holding a cigarette straight up, which, we were told, meant she wanted to have sex, and then there were the ice cubes in the glass for a liquor ad, which supposedly were altered, so that the image subtly read sex.
My dad, who wrote commercials for a living, just laughed when presented with the book. He asked why it would matter if the ice cubes really did spell out sex, and I dutifully repeated what I had read. The word attracted your attention, and made you want to buy the product. He said the amount of time and energy necessary in actually performing all these shenanigans would never be worth it, and that the whole thing was nonsense anyway.
He also asked what was so attractive about the skull in the ice cubes in another ad the book prominently featured. I ignored him, as the picture didn't fit what I wanted to believe. Looks like I wasn't the only one who only believes what he wants to believe.
Did you hear the good news about pizza? It seems that this high-fat favorite is good for you. That's what researchers say, or at least that's what the media are promoting.
See, researchers in Italy studied approximately 8,000 Italians, and found that those who regularly ate pizza appeared to have a decreased incidence of colon cancer, cancer of the esophagus, and throat and mouth cancers.
Sounds too good to be true, right? Well, yeah.
First, while these 8,000 Italians may be at a reduced risk for these cancers, no one has yet pinpointed the effect to the cause, which, in this case, is pizza consumption.
Second, anyone who has ever been to Italy, or even an authentic Italian restaurant, knows that pizza at Leona's is a completely different creation from a pizza in a piazza. Our pizzas are plainly larger, and certainly cheesier. There is almost no comparison between our hearty pies, and the almost delicate Italian creations.
Third, it seems very unlikely that it's pizza, the combo of crust sauce and cheese that may be reducing the risk of cancer. More likely, it is one specific ingredient, tomatoes perhaps.
Sorry.
Most reasonable folks probably already figured this out for themselves, and didn't go running to the nearest Domino's. Still, there are people who are always going to believe what they want to believe.
To best take advantage of those folks, the Bally Total Fitness chain has begun advertising a Bally Total Pizza, in conjunction with Lou Malnati's Pizzeria. If you order this pizza, you receive a discount to sign up for one of the ironclad contracts at the gym. You'll need it, after this deep-dish creation.
Bally's says in the ad, however, 'Pizza is not as bad as you think. You can work off about 300 calories in 30 minutes on the treadmill.'
True, you can work off about 300 calories in 30 minutes on a treadmill, but not everyone works at that pace. Plus, while the text implies otherwise, 300 calories is nothing when eating pizza. Half a piece, maybe. The way I eat pizza? Absolutely not.
And what's so healthy about the Bally's Total Pizza? It's topped with spinach and mushrooms. And a ton of cheese, of course. That's it. No meat, so it's healthy. Yeah, I guess.
Bally's literature goes on to say that their special pizza will, 'give you an extra surge of vitamin A, iron, potassium, and ascorbic acid in your diet.' So will a moderately balanced meal.
A few weeks after the book detailing the dangers of hidden images in cigarette smoke and ice cubes made the rounds in junior high, we were back to peeking at the images of naked ladies (yes, even me). My hunch is, that pretty soon, folks will realize that the additional pizza they are snarfing down is doing nothing much else than adding additional pounds, and Bally's Total fitness will find a new gimmick.
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