Cason Point

by Richard Cason

It is Feb. 27 at 3:10 in the afternoon. I've been standing at the rear entrance of a popular Cape Girardeau eatery for five minutes and no one has yet seated me. (Don't worry, downtown restaurateurs, it didn't happen at one of your places.) I'm not even close to having this column completed and while waiting to be seated I am also waiting for one of those trademark Richard Cason flashes of brilliance to strike me at any moment.

C'mon, strike me! I've got a freakin' deadline to meet over here! We're now nearing the 10-minute mark of disservice when one of the restaurant's wait persons blazes right past me as though I wasn't even there.

What's that, you say? You can't seat me because your much too busy supplying the tables with new over-sized sheets of paper and fresh crayons? Fine. I walk to the front of the joint where I finally park myself at a high-top table so I can watch "Judge Hatchett." Moments later a waitress approaches me.

"What can I get for you today?" she asks.

I reply, "How's about a menu, for starters." She gallops away, I assume still reeling from the natural high that one receives when working at a place like this. Much too perky for me. The happy waitress returns with the menu and asks if I am ready to order.

Even though she has just handed me the menu she is already asking if I am ready to order! Lucky for her that I pretty much knew what I wanted.

The following is a transcription of me ordering my food: WAITRESS: What would you like? ME: I'll take a cheeseburger, onion rings and a 7-Up.

WAITRESS: And what would like on your cheeseburger? Now, my standard reply to this question often times throws those off track who are waiting on me.

ME: Nothing. No lettuce, no tomato, none of those ugly little red or green pepper things, no vegetables.

I want meat, bread and cheese, no more, no less.

WAITRESS: OK, I'll be right back out with your order.

While I wait for my food, "Judge Hatchett" has segued into "Power of Attorney" so I retire to my men's magazine -- and I mean a "real" men's magazine too! Not this sissy crap about beer and gadgets and the like; I'm talking nudity, man! I like the interviews too, though. I was reading this month's interview with Ridley Scott when the waitress returns with my victuals. She sees the dirty cartoon on the accompanying page and tries to say something witty: WAITRESS: Can I get you anything else ... a clean magazine, perhaps? Of course, I am a high-profile radio personality and she isn't, so naturally she was ill-prepared for my even wittier rebuttal: ME: Well, perhaps you would like to bring me the food that I ordered! WAITRESS: Sir, this IS a cheeseburger.

ME: That it is; however, while taking my order you might remember the part where I specifically requested no vegetables. Hmm? This burger had everything that I told them not to put on there: Lettuce, tomato, and the ugly little red and green pepper things.

WAITRESS: Ohhhh. You didn't want ANY vegetables.

As I write this, I am having a hard time focusing on the keyboard for my blood is boiling at raging levels as I relive this episode in my mind! Honestly, how stupid do you have to be to not understand the concept of "no vegetables"? I don't see where you can get any wires crossed on this one, I really don't! Well, now that I think of it, I know exactly how they can: It's because they DON'T WRITE DOWN ANYTHING! Have you noticed it too!? It occurs especially at these pseudo-pub/TGI Friday's wannabe restaurants! It doesn't matter if you come in with a party of 12 or 12,000, your waiter or waitress will not write down your order under any circumstances! Hell, the name of the place could be Pencil and Paper with their walls decorated in legal pads and big fat kindergarten pencils and they still wouldn't write anything down! "It's just not hip to write down orders anymore.

Here at Pencil and Paper our strategy is to bombard you with British-style pub surroundings combined with North American pop culture and a college-age wait staff that have their minds on anything but the task at hand. That way whenever an order is messed-up and you have to send it back to the kitchen five times, at least you can say, "Hey, that was a neat place to eat at!" Well, I've got news for you, chief: It's going to take more than a few strategically placed TVs, and a checkered floor to make me happy.

You know where you can start? Try giving your wait staff pads of paper! Even if they're just doodling to start out with, at least they are getting used to applying the writing implement to the chosen surface on which they will eventually take down orders.

Another thing that you might tell the kids is to write legibly. I know they are in a hurry, but if the waiter or waitress writes down an order as it was given, but the cook can't read the damn thing, our cause has been defeated.

People want to know why I never go out anywhere -- it's because the vast majority of people on the front lines of the service industry simply suck.

They're in a hurry to take your order so they can move to the next table to take their order and so on, and in the backs of their minds they're thinking "tips, tips, tips!" If you want a tip from me follow these basics: 1) Seat me and/or my party promptly 2) Don't "act" happy. If you are, fine, but if you're not, don't act it and certainly don't try to rub it off onto me.

3) Don't tell me that my order will be right out when we both know that it will be at least half-an-hour 4) Whenever you hear the words from the back, "Order up," don't continue to flirt with the guy from across the mall who runs the sunglasses stand. Instead, why don't you try GETTING MY FOOD! 5) And finally, if you don't do any of the first four things, just get the order right the first time.

I give you my word as a gentleman that if you do these five simple things when you wait on me, I've got a nice shiny quarter with your name on it.

All you have to do is work for it.

Richard Cason can be heard Monday through Friday from 7 p.m. to midnight on 100.7 KGMO. Plus, be sure to check out his website at www.rcason.homestead.com.