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Categories: all aviation bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater Tue, 05 Jan 2010This morning, I came across some coupons from Silence Heart Nest, a restaurant in Fremont, which took over the space from the Longshoreman's Daughter restaurant. It's a new-agey-feeling place, with all the servers in saris, and a menu heavy on the happy/hippie food. I looked at the coupon, saw that it was from this place, and scoffed to myself: "Yeah right, you won't catch me going in there again." This is the story of that reaction. In the early planning of SketchFest Seattle last year, we were having meetings about once a month, and we found ourselves generally meeting for brunch on our meeting days. It was a nice way to get together and discuss the pressing issues while taking our time and being leisurely about it. One time, we decided to stop in at Silence Heart Nest, having heard that it was a good place. They seemed to be doing a brisk trade that morning, but we were able to find a corner table for four, and sat down to our discussion. Food was ordered, and consumed. It was pretty good, and reasonably priced. We had our discussion, and ended up sitting at the table for a couple of hours, deeply embroiled in the issues of putting on a quality sketch comedy festival. This was our usual mode of meeting, and we'd done it at many restaurants. I remember looking over occasionally to see if we were sucking up table space unnecessarily, but there was never much of a line at the door, and the servers didn't seem anxious to get rid of us. So we stayed, and we discussed. Eventually, two hours after we'd gotten there (having ordered a full round of breakfast for everyone), we flagged a server and got our check. "You know," said the server (I must necessarily paraphrase, my memory's not that good), "you guys have been sitting here for a really long time, and you've been taking up a perfectly good table, costing us a lot of income. It was really quite inconsiderate of you, and maybe next time you have a meeting like this, you could take it somewhere else after you eat, like a local coffee shop or something." We four sat there, stunned. Glances were exchanged across the table. There were sotto voce conversations affirming that each of us had been looking out to see if we were being an inconvenience to the restaurant. We paid our bill and left, much more quickly than we might otherwise have done. There was still nothing like a line at the door -- there might have been two people waiting for a table. As we walked down the sidewalk away from the the restaurant, it was generally agreed: that was about the worst possible way for our server to handle that situation, short of actually screaming or producing weaponry. In a normal restaurant, it wouldn't have even come up. SHN is arguably a small space with relatively few tables, and could be excused for being anxious for high table turnover. It would have been acceptable, if a bit weird, if someone had come over and politely asked us to clear out after we were obviously done eating. Laying a heavy guilt trip on us after we were done left us feeling like we'd just transgressed, without having any indication it was a problem during the transgression itself. So, congratulations, Silence Heart Nest. Your ill-timed scolding has not only guaranteed that I'll never be back, it has also produced this journal entry, which will be read by at least a half-dozen people, who might even have the same reaction. The durable power of infamy, indeed. Posted at 10:18 permanent link category: /misc Categories: all aviation gadgets misc motorcycle theater Written by Ian Johnston. Software is Blosxom. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net. |