We recently went to Bonefish Grill with J’s family to celebrate his mom’s birthday (her 29th, I believe it was) — we’re huge fans of their Bang Bang Shrimp. Seriously, if you haven’t tried it, you are missing out.
Anyway, we had a sweet little waitress, but the girl needed a serious lesson in pronunciation. First, she listed the specials, one of which included salmon. Yes, I know it’s spelled with an L, but you don’t pronounce it.
I kept my mouth shut, even though it’s not like she had an accent or anything. She just didn’t know how to pronounce salmon.
Dude. Don’t mess with my booze. But, I still kept my mouth shut, knowing that I could let it all fester and come out here! For you to enjoy! Woo hoo!
I probably sound like a snobby bitch by now, and maybe I am, but here’s the thing. We were at a fairly nice restaurant — no peanut shells on the floor, not served cafeteria style, complete lack of a dollar menu, etc. — and this poor girl honestly had no idea how to pronounce some fairly obvious things. Like salmon. And she’s a waitress at a restaurant where they regularly serve salmon.
She didn’t seem like a terribly dim girl, so I’m curious where this goes back to. I haven’t worked in the restaurant business (well, there were a few days in that creepy diner in Sunfield with the toothless cigarette smoking chef, and my two days as a waitress at Good Times Pizza, but we’re not counting those catastrophes), so I would like to know where the responsibility lies. Shouldn’t the management, when training these folks, make sure they know how to pronounce most of the crap on the menu? It’s not like we’re at an Italian place, or we’re ordering sushi in Japanese — it’s just freakin’ fish.
Bitching about pronunciation aside, it was truly a lovely dinner. Except when my sister-in-law spit chicken on me because the waitress pronounced Seymour like it was a delicious concoction of graham cracker, chocolate, and marshmallow that one would typically find around campfires. But, yeah, otherwise lovely.