Tonight was a rather interesting adventure at Boston Pizza. Shannon was in town and so we decided to grab a bite and catch up. Boston Pizza seemed as good a place as any, so we went to one near my apartment.
Things started off rather as you'd expect. It was busy but the hostess was nice and our table was clean (though we were put in a back corner which was a bit claustrophobic). A few minutes after being seated, our server, Amy H, came to the table and asked what we would like to drink. She seemed pleasant enough. However, it was not meant to be.
After about ten minutes, Amy H returned to our table to take our order. We were finished our drinks but Amy H did not ask if we would like refills. Shannon had to actually beckon Amy H over to the table to ask for refills after another ten minutes of waiting.
Our food arrived after about a half hour, which wasn't bad considering how busy the restaurant was. Shannon ordered some sort of Greek-inspired pizza thing. While eating it, she realized it had onions in and Shannon was unsure if the menu stated there would be onions in the dish. Shannon did not want the onions and so Shannon again had to flag down Amy H. Amy H never came to the table to ask how the food was, so Shannon wasn't being rude in getting Amy H to the table.
Amy H told Shannon that Amy H could take the dish back to the cook and the cook could pick out the onions for Shannon.
What? Cook's fingers in her pizza, picking and pulling onions out from within the melted cheese?
Shannon was confused, as neither she nor I had ever heard of a restaurant that would "pick" pieces out of a customer's dish. Amy H clarified that it was more of a scrape than a pick, and the cook's hands would be clean. Okay. Shannon, still disturbed by this, continued to ask for clarification because it really made no sense. Amy H seemed to become impatient and frustrated. "Well do you want something else?" "Well WHAT do you want?" Shannon decided to have the dish remade. Amy H snatched the dish and snarked "fine" as she walked off. Shannon and I, of course, commented on how much of a bitch this Amy H was being.
Amy H returned to the table with Shannon's new Greeky Sneezy Pizzy...with extra spit. Amy H tossed the plate down. It was clear she was angry. Shannon later complained that the dish was "VIOLENTLY" presented to her. It was that fine line between placing the plate down and throwing it at Shannon's face. Shannon first noticed that part of the pizza looked new but the rest appeared to be cooked differently. We decided they probably did just scrape off the old cheese, add new cheese, and make a new piece to fill the part that Shannon already ate. It's probably an absurd assumption, but it's funny.
Amy H, my dearest friend, never returned to the table until the end of the meal. Shannon, not wanting to finish her entire meal, wanted a doggie box to take home the leftovers. But Amy H wasn't attending the table and thre was no way in hell we were going to disrupt her...for fear of being shanked with the spotty silverware. Shannon ultimately walked over to a desk and took an empty box from a stack. Shannon put the food in the container all by her self (she's getting pretty independent these days). Unfortunately, Shannon left the box on the seat when Shannon went to use the washroom.
Enter Amy H. Well, that box must have belonged to Amy H's kitten that we ran over because once Amy H saw the box, the glare she gave me was enough to cause my balls to suck up into my body! She asked if we wanted dessert or the bill and I said bill. I wouldn't want Amy H serving us dessert after that look.
Once we left the restaurant, Shannon decided to call Boston Pizza and complain about Amy H. As Shannon told the story to a supervisor, there was a lot of laughter because the story is so absurd...fingers picking out onions, projectile plates, and a platinum blonde server whose roots were showing.
After BPs, we decided to hit Peter's Drive In for shakes. I had blueberry/watermelon, and for some reason when I ordered it I said "por favor." As we drank our shakes, it was decided it might be a good idea if I also called BPs to complain about Amy H. But let's face it...the poor girl was CLEARLY just upset because she saw me, this really hot dude, with another woman who could have easily been a girlfriend or a date. She was jealous and disappointed that she couldn't land this grade A Alberta beefcake. Can you really blame her?
STOP LAUGHING AT ME! LET ME HAVE THIS!