Sometimes, you've got to walk a mile in another person's huaraches. Judging from a comment I threw into another blog post -- "I often get the worst tables... What is it with restaurants seating minorities by the kitchen?" -- other people (white, old, female...) feel the same tinge of discrimination in restaurants.
One reader thought I was joking. As I noted in a follow-up to my original comment, my counterpart at the San Francisco Chronicle blogged about discrimination in restaurants in America's most liberal city, where people say they've been shunted to bad tables because they're too old, too gay, too fat or too dark.
Apparently, some of the same -isms happen right here in the South Sound, too.
Seatting by the kitchen door is often the only option offerred single women diners, and usually the fancier the place, the further back we are seated. I tell the host/hostess now where I want to sit, I don't wait to be shown to a bad table. Or, I'll take a seat in or near the bar to avoid the hassle. The waitstaff, however, can be an additional problem. I've watched male and female staff fawn over a single guy or two guys as they completely ignore me. I explain, when I tip, my 'tip' is a true message on how to succeed in business. As an older widow, I dine alone a lot, and I won't put up with bad tables, bad service, or bad food. I also dine with friends and, as I am the hostess for the table, it is important for me to have the attention and respect of the waitstaff. Listen up, waitstaff, that 40's or 50's something gal alone may be a bank vice-president, the CEO of her own company, or a major player at MS Redmond. Besides, women control the wealth and influence where their men dine. Slop all over the guy, turn me off, and wonder why your tip went south!
-- Comment from: agtoth ( Registered User )
When my man and I go out either for dinner or drinks or both, there are some places we just will not return to. You see my man is 8 years younger than me but looks more like 10 -12 years younger. I have had people snub me but fawn all over him. We drink the same thing but I have gotten noticeable less Hennessy poured than my friend.
-- Comment from: pegsterdtown ( Registered User )
Then there was the time I dined with my old landlady at an expensive restaurant on a Tacoma cliff. She knows the owner. The owner seated us. She said to him, "This is the best table you can give us?" We weren't moved to another table. Was it because she's large and crusty? Was it because I was wearing the only clean shirt I had that night -- something that was two sizes too big for me?
The screaming match I had with a Caucasian physicians assistant at St. Francis Hospital's emergency room in Federal Way in December wasn't about a table. It was about prescription pain killers. But my point is the same: A white guy from Fort Lewis came in complaining about a pulled groin. I was in there with a visibly impacted mass on my hip that had swelled to the size of a volleyball and pinched every nerve below my waist. He was in and out with pain meds in 20 minutes. I had to beg and scream for two hours. Two nurses, one Filipino, one American Indian, told me it's easier for white patients to get narcotics.
Oh, but this Chicano digresses.
Agtoth: Need a dinner date? Call me.
Everyone else: Weigh in or refute our experiences.