Heck, I would settle for a bowl of steamed broccoli after 45 minutes!
Now that we have our newest member of the family—Norman, the part-basset hound, part-beagle, part-hound dog—we look for restaurants that offer outdoor dining. I had a hankering for a Greek salad and tzatziki a few weekends ago, so we ventured downtown to enjoy lunch (us) and a bowl of water (Norman). Things started out OK; two glasses and a bowl of water arrived promptly, and I could almost taste the grilled chicken on the salad that would be at the table any minute—well, so I thought.
Twenty-five minutes later, we asked the server if our salads were coming. She couldn’t quite remember which salad hubby ordered—not a good sign. Then came the “two more minutes” promise. Ten minutes later, we asked the manager, who said, “What?! You have been here for over an hour! I can’t believe you didn’t get your food—two more minutes.”
Well, that last two-minute warning did it for us, so after a wasted 50 minutes, Norman wandered down the street, and we were soon happily eating a bowl of chowder, served in four minutes flat. So I beg the question: How long would you wait for a meal before either fainting from hunger or taking the two-minute warning as a sign that you ain’t getting fed today, lady? Weigh in with a comment!