The Joy Of Eating Out JstCallMeFrank

Ooops, that should say "...with JstCallMeFrank"... dang... *childish giggle*

I'm English, for those that didn't already know. That means despite common misconceptions, I eat good quality food. Not saying that all English people eat quality food, vast majority probably do eat cheap nasty store brand value crap but in England we have access to high quality food, especially meats, dairy and vegetables.
Frankie grew up on a farm, spent the best part of eight years in Canada and is a qualified chef; therefore knows a thing about quality foods.
And that means, between us, we are bloody hard to please when it comes to eating out though this post is mainly about the joy of eating out with Frankie.

For those that follow my twitter account you'll know how much I dislike American food and with good reason. The meat is tasteless and entirely the wrong constancy caused mostly because of the 100% (over fed) corn diet. The fruit and vegetables are equally tasteless caused mainly by the forced growth factor. Even fast food, compared to the UK is of a seriously sub-par standard. A quick example of this: What's considered one of the best made to order take out pizzas where we are the states is on par with a UK Pizza Hut. The US Pizza Hut pizzas are disgusting.

Frankie is trying to give me the full American experience by taking me to lots of different places to eat including Denny's, Perkins, Texas Roadhouse, Buffalo Wild Wings at the lower end and some higher class places too (that I can't name as they could give away our location). It probably goes without saying that at Denny's, Perkins and Texas Roadhouse we sent food back and refused replacements but credit where it's due, the items were removed from the bill (which annoyed me as I was looking forward to the argument).

Again, being English means I'm good at gripping about things and have no problem letting people know I'm unhappy about the food / service. For example, when the woman at Denny's asked how the food was I gave her a dirty look and said "I pretty much disliked everything you served me" which seemed to shake her a bit.

But I'm talking about me and this is supposed to be about Frankie.

Yes, eating out with Frankie is a guaranteed night of amusement (at other's expense). Frankie doesn't like going out at the best of times especially if there are going to be other people around but at least with eating out, there's something that most of them can be happy about.
It starts with a waitress showing us to our seats. The more savvy ones can tell instantly they're in for a night of grief; even the less savvy ones must see that we're not going to be a joy to serve (helped by the fact that we dress up to go out and probably look, to these small town people, like "city folk").
I love it every time the waitress comes to our table. Frankie will immediately look at them once before turning their head away. The waitresses shoulders slump. They can sense the impending foreboding. "What can I get you to drink?" they say with a forced smile and mock-cheery demeanor. Frankie, without looking at them will either ask for "just water" or ask what the house wine is. If the latter then it's a certain that whatever the answer they won't be happy with it. More recently I've taken to just asking for Coke as despite the HFCS it'll contain it's easier than listening to the poor vapid bint reel of a list of gnats piss American "beers" plus some random import lager.
Then, 5 minutes into the food, over comes the waitress again. And again they're met with a dirty look and then no look at all. "How's the food?" *silence* Their (the waitress') smile disappears. Frankie eyes the forkful of food with great disgust and without looking at them tells them that it's "ok". *silence* Then my turn. Sometimes I'll get to say my bit about the food but more often than not Frankie will jump straight in - "the meat is overcooked / dry, the cheese on the fries isn't nice either, in fact, can you take those fries away and bring back something else" It's not really a question. I'll be grinning which just goes to confuse poor bint further. I know it's not their fault and they maybe don't deserve it but if you work somewhere where the food is sub-par you've got to expect some flack. Except they don't. They don't consider the food sub-par because this is America and it's ON-par.
This normally results in the manager coming over to apologise. They're met with equal contempt from Frankie. We're never stupid enough to ask for a replacement if the meal is really bad, we know that we'd end up with a plate full of floor food and spit.

Frankie honestly has the best look; in fact it goes beyond a mere look, it's an air of dis-interest, an aura if you will. Picture the most disgusted look you've ever been given by a woman, say, the first time you asked a girl out at school, one that clearly despised you. Now multiply that by ten. Ten people, ten disgusted looks all on one face. That is Frankie in the face of a waiter/waitress.

We still go out sometimes but it's futile, like I said, I know what food should taste like and so does Frankie, despite being American themselves. It's futile because this is America where Capitalism is taken to the extreme and cheap, nasty  produce is the American way, just as is a complete lack of quality standards.
But out we go and I'll always enjoy it, the experience that is. I love seeing Frankie's face when the waitress comes over, I love seeing the smiles turn into utter contempt, I love seeing how the cheery nature of the waitress only goes to complete the transformation from contempt to homicidal and I particularly like the pause, closed eyes deep breath and resigned hatred that starts every answer to every question Frankie is asked. And I really love the look on the waitresses face when they realise they're serving two people that remind them what a shit hole they're working in.
Are we somehow above them? Do we somehow feel superior? *shrugs* Meh.

Don't get me (us) wrong, regardless of the food standards, if we served by someone we think deserves it, they will get a tip, a good tip, above average.
But if they have the fucking cheek to try and engage us / them in conversation (as seems to be the thing in America) then the only tip they'll get, is not to expect one. Oh, and yes, they can take "that" look to mean they wish they (the waitress) would fuck off and die, that's exactly what that look means.

So if you're a... server, my best advice is this: We don't want a fucking conversation, how our day is is none of your fucking business. We came to your place of work / home to eat. Your job is to take our order, deliver the food to where we're sat and top up our drinks. If we need anything we'll ask. Take that how you may but think of it as us making your life as easy and simple as possible. And longer.