I’m in Baltimore at the moment, attending a trade show for booksellers. A lot of the business we do is centered around food service, as there is a gathering of some sort for almost all of our meals. It’s gotten me thinking about how I have this need to rehearse my order before the server comes to me. In these trade show banquets, it’s tricky because I need to order the vegetarian meal at precisely the moment the fast-moving server tries to put a plate of rubber chicken in front of me, because once that plate has made contact with the table, it is too late to turn back. So while I’m supposed to be chatting and creating relationships with my table mates, all that is going through my head is “could I have the vegetarian plate, please” over and over, like an actor learning lines. I know I need to say this line loudly and clearly to prevent disaster. This is also true at weddings.
It’s also true at fast moving delis, where I stand in line thinking only, “egg and cheese on a whole wheat bagel, pepper, no salt, ketchup on the side, ” or “munster cheese on a roll, lettuce, tomato, yes, that is it.” Because if I’m not ready, and I get called on and drop a line, who knows what I will get. Something nasty no doubt.
This morning, I decided to treat myself to my once-a-month Dunkin Donuts breakfast, so I walked from my hotel room to the two blocks through a maybe not-so-nice part of the city. I stood in line for about 10 minutes, practicing my order the whole time. I got to my turn, delivered the lines perfectly, and was served a delicious meal. I reached for my wallet to pay, and realized to my horror that I had removed my cash and credit cards to carry on my person during last night’s festivities, and that they were still sitting snugly in my pants from last night. I was like an actress who knew her lines perfectly, delivering an otherwise Oscar-caliber performance in the category of ordering breakfast, who got screwed out of her dreams by the props department.
