I don't eat alone in restaurants. I just don't. I see men doing it more than women so perhaps it's more common on Mars than Venus. I always feel bad for people I see eating alone in restaurants and usually concoct weird scenarios in my head as to why they don't have a nibbling partner, when in reality I'm sure their story is not quite the country song I make it out to be.

So I don't eat alone, and I'm pretty spontaneous when it comes to food choices. Meaning if I'm out and hungry, I often don't decide where to stop until I see the restaurant sign. Which means I end up waiting a good 15-20 minutes for my order to be prepared.

Yesterday, I decided to be proactive. I considered all the dining options between my house and work and called ahead to a local Italian establishment. I drove eagerly toward my piping hot ravioli only to be greeted by a lethal combination of humans as I walked in the door: an old,old grandma customer attempting to pay for her carryout order + a brand spanking new employee behind the counter.

After the painstakingly slow-motion exchange of a handwritten check and a bag of food transpired between OOG and BSN boy, I approached the counter and told him my name. And then a look of sheer terror that only a BSN employee can muster crossed his face just before he sprinted around the counter, past me, and out the front door.

Grandma had my damn ravioli. And I did not want her cheeseburger. And I definitely did not want to sit there for 15-20 minutes waiting on BSN boy to get me some BSN ravioli. It was no surprise to me that BSN boy failed in his attempt to catch grandma. Don't let them fool you, hungry OOGs can hustle.

Hateful Boss Lady(who also happens to be the person who took my phone order) enters the scene at this time yelling at the kitchen to prepare a new ravioli STAT. Then she redirects her wrath to BSN, lecturing him about the importance of always getting the customer's phone number. The entire time she is scolding this poor kid I am biting my tongue and dying to scream "POT!!!!!" as she in fact did not ask for my phone number just 15 minutes earlier.

She finally walked away and I divulged this little secret to BSN which made him smile. At the exact moment he smiled, the bell on the front door chimed and we were all pleasantly surprised by the Return of OOG. She felt compelled to state the obvious: "This is not a cheeseburger." And we all nodded and smiled in the manner reserved only for the really old or the really special, and I found myself resisting the urge to yank the bag from her hands and perform my own disappearing act.

But I just smiled and waited, and waited some more because patience is a virtue. And in this case, a virtue that resulted in a free piece of tiramisu. :)