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vanillafluffyThis morning, I accompanied Mb to a doctor's appointment. According to her, he yells less when she has someone in the room with her. He didn't yell at all, he seemed very calm and on top of things. FWIW, I liked him; he reminded me of Cesar Millan.
Afterward, when we got out of there, it was about 10:30. Cracker Barrel was on the way home, so we dropped in for brunch.
Usually, I adore Cracker Barrel. Today, however, they were not up to par. It was close enough to 11 that we could've ordered lunch, but I was in the mood for eggs I didn't have to cook. To begin with, it took so long for our order to get there, I started to wonder if the hens weren't laying well. The toast that came with it, when it did arrive, was charred on one side. I asked for fresh toast, not burned, and some jelly, preferably blackberry.
Oh, and my bacon? Was jerky. I have nothing against crispy bacon, but I draw the line at dessicated. We got two containers of jelly, one each: Grape and strawberry. Um, wrong berry.
Waited. Waited some more. In the interim, I got two beverage refills from another server who passed by and noticed I was out. By the time the second round of "toast" appeared, my eggs were rubber. (Quotes because it was barely-warm bread that didn't even have a tan.)
I wasn't happy, and Mb was, if anything, even more pissed on my behalf. (That's how you know you've got a true friend!) The only reason I left any sort of tip was because she *did* bring some lemons wedges for my drink, which was the first thing I asked for---that was done promptly. So she got a flat 10%. Usually, I'm a 20% tipper, if only to disprove the study that said "middle-aged" women are the worst tippers. Her loss.
We sought out a manager before approaching the cashier, and he gave good grovel. Said that our server was usually very good, and he didn't know why she wasn't on her A-game, but he'd talk to her. AND he comped our meals, which I was hoping for, because I could've stayed home and cooked better than that!
The gift shop beckoned; we wandered around for a little while, since we were unexpectedly a bit wealthier than we'd thought we'd be. I found a reusable tote bag for J---her birthday is next week---it has a picture of a dachshund on it, and says: "You had me at 'Woof!". Everytime the subject of dachshunds come up, she says how stubborn they are. *grin*
If I weren't so short on sleep, I'd make some clever quip about a dog's breakfast, but not today....
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Car du jour: Saw a very nice yellow Year One GTO on the way down to the doctor's, and on the way back, a Vecchio-era Buick Riviera, champagne beige.
.
Afterward, when we got out of there, it was about 10:30. Cracker Barrel was on the way home, so we dropped in for brunch.
Usually, I adore Cracker Barrel. Today, however, they were not up to par. It was close enough to 11 that we could've ordered lunch, but I was in the mood for eggs I didn't have to cook. To begin with, it took so long for our order to get there, I started to wonder if the hens weren't laying well. The toast that came with it, when it did arrive, was charred on one side. I asked for fresh toast, not burned, and some jelly, preferably blackberry.
Oh, and my bacon? Was jerky. I have nothing against crispy bacon, but I draw the line at dessicated. We got two containers of jelly, one each: Grape and strawberry. Um, wrong berry.
Waited. Waited some more. In the interim, I got two beverage refills from another server who passed by and noticed I was out. By the time the second round of "toast" appeared, my eggs were rubber. (Quotes because it was barely-warm bread that didn't even have a tan.)
I wasn't happy, and Mb was, if anything, even more pissed on my behalf. (That's how you know you've got a true friend!) The only reason I left any sort of tip was because she *did* bring some lemons wedges for my drink, which was the first thing I asked for---that was done promptly. So she got a flat 10%. Usually, I'm a 20% tipper, if only to disprove the study that said "middle-aged" women are the worst tippers. Her loss.
We sought out a manager before approaching the cashier, and he gave good grovel. Said that our server was usually very good, and he didn't know why she wasn't on her A-game, but he'd talk to her. AND he comped our meals, which I was hoping for, because I could've stayed home and cooked better than that!
The gift shop beckoned; we wandered around for a little while, since we were unexpectedly a bit wealthier than we'd thought we'd be. I found a reusable tote bag for J---her birthday is next week---it has a picture of a dachshund on it, and says: "You had me at 'Woof!". Everytime the subject of dachshunds come up, she says how stubborn they are. *grin*
If I weren't so short on sleep, I'd make some clever quip about a dog's breakfast, but not today....
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Car du jour: Saw a very nice yellow Year One GTO on the way down to the doctor's, and on the way back, a Vecchio-era Buick Riviera, champagne beige.
.