Monday

I Really Hate Onions...



The Usual Disclaimer:  I don't hate servers.  This is not an anti-server bash.  Ask anyone that's ever waited on me.  I clean up the table and make their job easy.  I'm complimentary, I'm kind - and I leave a good tip.  Most of all, I get that it's a tough job.  That being said - read on if you promise not to be a judgy asshole.  This is my dining experience as I know it. 

By now, you know I am a stay at home mom.  If you don't, now you know.  One of the reasons we can do this is because I cook 99% of the time.  We get takeout once in a while, and a few times a month, we go out to dinner.  Nothing excessive  - this is just a welcome trade off to getting to be home with these guys.  When we do go out to dinner, I enjoy getting waited on, I enjoy having my meal made for me, and I love the interaction with the servers.  I am certain that this is truly one of the hardest jobs in the world.  I've owned a restaurant before, I worked 13 hour days, 7 days a week  - I know what they go through, I know how hard people can be on them - how rude, how cheap - I get it.  Can I just ask one favor though?



When I give you my order - can you just write it down?  

The waitress the other night came over to take our order.  Are you ready?  I ask with doubt - since she had no paper, no pen - no nothing - just a look - right through my soul.  Okayyyyy then, I think.  Here we go with another attempt at giving my order without someone writing it down.

"I would like the Greek Salad - just NO onions.."  (side note:  I hate onions - I hate them with every fiber of my being - the smell - the taste - the way they make me cry when I have to cut them.  I don't like to hang around people that make me cry - why would I treat onions any differently?)  She mentally snaps a photo of my order. 



We continue to order - for Hubs, and the kids.  Nothing complicated.  Simple, easy peasy.  We have no food allergies, no Spanish Inquisitions, no gluten issues, no picky requests - just no gdamn red onions.

She walks away, and I can see the food request flying out of her brain and lingering somewhere between our table and the kitchen.  Perhaps it's all of the times I've been scarred in the past with misunderstood verbal orders with serve staff who claim to have a memory like an elephant.  I have server-trust issues.



I look at Hubs - and he knows what I'm about to say - for he's the one who has been with me in the past when they've put onions on things that I asked them not to and they promised me it could be made without.  (It's not like I'm asking them to remove onions from a cooked dish - just physically, refrain from putting raw onions on a salad or burger - that is all.)

"Why can't they just write it down?"  I shake my head, aggravated. 

"It's not that hard, it'll be fine."  He reassures me.

I go back to our regularly scheduled subject of laughing at the kids and how they are flicking water with their straws, dropping crayons on the floor, bothering sugar packets, touching things.  We start to play a game of eye spy to distract them until their food comes.  We wait - for a few salads, a few grilled cheese, and a bowl of soup.

And we wait.

And we wait.

The sound of slurping wakes me from my annoyed thoughts.  They've finished their milk and are now sucking every last drop out of their cups.  Tick tock - the behavior/patience timer is running out on their clock - and I am wondering where the food is.


Let's face it..once their milk is gone, the patience of kids starts to run out.

The sound of the door from the kitchen gets my attention and there she is - finally coming with our food. 

Hooray - the food is here.

VVVVVRRRRRRRRRDDDDDD - pull the needle off the record. 

Onions.

Why...why...why...why...why...why.

Big Purple Thick Stinky Obnoxious Onions.



I say nothing.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No thank you," I smile politely.  Now here is why I have a blog.  Because, like Jim Carrey, in Me, Myself, and Irene, I am too nice, too kind to say anything.  I mean, what am I going to say?  Should I start yelling like Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest....NO ONIONS ON MY SALAD EVERRRRRRRRRRRR!  I mentally have  a funny moment of me throwing the onions back at the kitchen door while standing on the cloth seat of my booth and yelling YOU SHOULD'VE WRITTEN IT DOWN YOU EFFING KNOW IT ALL!  This thought alone makes me laugh, shrug, and eyeroll.  It's not that big of  a deal.  But every time.  Every time they don't write it down, they forget something.  It drives me bonkers.  Especially when I used to be the one in the kitchen dealing with the servers that would come in and say - 'can you remake this order, I got it wrong.."  

Look, I'm not that delicate that I can't just take the onions off - I can.  That requires touching them.  And one thing about those effing red/purple onions is that they are so strong and obnoxious that the smell lingers in my nasal airspace for hours to come.


See - there you have it.  You get a bad rap the rest of the day because you SMELL like those asshole onions just because someone decided NOT to write your order down. 

I remove them from my fork, give a big sigh, and shake my head.

Hubs looks at me.  He starts laughing.  He knows where this is headed.

"Why can't they just write it down?"  I ask him.

I take a bite into my chicken.   All I can taste is onions.  


Winning!

Love and hugs, just know it's not me that smells when you hug me - it's the onions..
~DG

15 comments:

  1. Oh I totally get this! I am the exact same way with raw tomatoes...specifically tomato slices on sandwiches. EVEN if i take the slice off myself all of the tomato slime and seeds are still resting on my sandwich and imbedded in any other sauce or lettuce on there as well. It makes me crazy and that ALWAYS happens when they don't write it down. Grrr...

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  2. Right there with you on onions!! (I also have a problem with raw tomatoes.) I get that they add flavor to cooked meals and I'm ok with that. But keep the raw stuff away from me! The only time I ever scent a dish back was when I was brought chicken with the center still pink. I refuse to get food poisoning for their mistake. (I was then told by the manager the grill turns it pink...pfft no.)

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  3. They KNOW they have you held hostage when you are out with your kids. Hubs always asks me why I don't send it back when it's wrong. Because - the kids have already finished their drinks...by the time they "try again" they'll be finished with their food and I'll choke down 2 bits before I'm completely defeated by the patience-clock and have heartburn from the anticipation of the melt-downs to come if I eat any more.

    When we dine alone - watch out. EVERYTHING must be exactly as I said - or I will be at that table all night waiting, and then slowly eating every bite. That is when I'm dangerous...but they never make a mistake when I'm dining with just my husband. Hmmmmm.....sounds like a conspiracy to me.

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  4. Hello... Fellow Onion Hater here :)
    Being the Jersey Girl that I am (not nearly Snookie, but outspoken just the same) - I would have A. told her to get her pen because she WILL forget & B. Told her to go get me a new salad because I said NO ONIONS and meant NO ONIONS.... And I WAS a server at one time or another & knew that no matter how good my little memory was, at 4 tables +, you're going to forget something :)

    I admire your restraint!

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  5. OMG, I HATE onions also! But, I'm with "My Daily Jenn-ism"...I would 110% have spoken up. If I'm paying for food/service, I better get what I want, regardless of if the kids are with me or not.

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  6. What if,next time you are out for dinner, you write the order down yourself and give the note to the waitress/waiter? Maybe the you get the food without the cursed onions.

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  7. I worked at a burger joint. The two items most removed from burgers are... onions and tomatoes. These days I kind of love it when someone says "It comes with onions. Do you want the onions?" Ahhh... it's like a breath of fresh air, literally, because your breath won't stink.

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  8. I love onions but I am also too nice to say anything. Maybe I should carry a little notepad so I could leave a note with the too generous for the service tip - got it WRONG, start writing it down Brainiac!

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  9. as if dinner out with three kids isnt a rarity and hard enough..please get the order right!!! Send that stuff back DG! You should be able to enjoy your night off from cooking!!

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  10. I'm too busy laughing at the "onions are like ex-boyfriends" because they sure are!

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  11. They want to impress us with their steel trap memories. They should just spare us and go on Letterman's Stupid Human Tricks.

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  12. You absolutely should've said something instead of eating onion tainted salad! Oh, and I hate when the kids' drinks are gone because we all know then they will have to pee, and THAT is when the food will finally come!

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  13. Just wanted to let you know... I MISS YOU

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  14. Totally with you, I even make them change gloves at Subway as they've been diving into the onions before making my sub.

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  15. Onions suck, and I totally agree with you that they infest everything they touch.. I'm glad someone has the same sentiment I do, and I sincerely hope these waiters/waitresses just write down the order next time!!

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