serve ladies first

My husband and I went to an upscale restaurant in California during the 1970s. The waiter brought two menus. My husband's menu had the prices, mine didn't. I became very irritated and asked for a menu with prices. The waiter said he couldn't do that because it was against the rules and was the custom. I asked to speak to the owner. I told him that if I didn't get a menu with prices, I would write a letter to the editor of our local newspaper about their rule. I got the priced menu. We returned to the restaurant several months later and everyone got priced menus.

BBB

Women more often ask if a menu has leaner, healthier options. Men more often ask if they can get a decent steak.

Look forward to reading the article. (I have to pick my football teams for the week first...)

I 've run the fine dining special interest group for NY Mensa
for the last 30 years. I choose the restaurants. Some of the
maître d's have gotten to know me and are friendly within reason
in greeting me upon arrival, but nothing untoward.
I don 't go for that rapturous frenzy of greeting,
or whatever it said in the article. That never became a problem.


I have never seen any of my members endeavor to show anything off.
That just never came up.

What I care about in selecting a restaurant
is burgeoning gastronomic hedonism in congenial circumstances
with decent table service, conveniently situate with a good parking lot.

The Pastry Chef shoud be a successfully creative artist,
channeling down abstract beauty like lightning from the higher planes,
sculpting & molding it into multiple ecstasys of euphoric elation.
The confection shoud be fraught with ultrasybaritic flavors
rendered in ineffable symphonies of smooth, creamy texture
and set forth with flawless symmetry of form and color,
ultimating in intra-oral novas of superhedonic glory; too much was still not enuf.



David

Guys r from Mars; chicks r from Venus ?

Interesting article. I've had that happen to me, too, where I ordered the wine but the bottle was shown to my husband, plenty of times. Didn't bother me, though. And I never notice who gets served first. I'll have to take a look if I ever get out of this godforsaken camp.

Shakespeare wrote a play about this once. Much Ado About Nothing. (But I am enjoying ehBeth's little ripostes.)