knit night and the day after

I was always horrible at science.  Sometimes I have dreams where I take a university organic chemistry test and get an A+ and walk around showing everyone that "I could do it after all."

I prefer to get any science with a dose of laugh which is why knitnight is so great.  KnitnightGina is a lab person in a blood place. (pretty fancy title, eh- I'm sure she's called something different but that's as much as I can come up with.)  Her daughter, knitnightJustine is in medical school.  She's not a resident or an intern but she goes to a hospital every day which leaves her somewhere between anatomy class and doctorville.  Last night I learned about the factor cascade of coagulation, platelets and plasma.  And in a very small way, I get it and am amazed that we all have bodies and that they work so well.

The Day After.

Today Mr. Sophanne said "Let's go out to dinner."   Because we live in ruralville, the only within 10 mile option was a place that rhymes with Mob Revans.

We learned some interesting things.  The soup container that they put on your table is to encourage you to buy soup. (no surprise there)  The waitstaff has a "soup quota" they have to make each shift.  If they fail more than once to include the empty container on a patrons table, they are suspended from work for three days.  There is also a 20% beverage quota that does not include water.

Our waitress shared this information with us freely mostly because Mr. Sophanne can get anyone to talk.  While we were eating he saw all wait staff pulled off the floor and into conference about the low soup numbers for the evening.

What the hell?  No wonder the service there is often so bad.  Everybody's worried about their carry out soup and soda numbers.  If you have customers you know aren't interested, it's time to move on to another potential soup buyer.  That's where the action is.

I might be wrong, but I'm guessing that the finer dining establishments that Mr. Sophanne and I have visited in big cities don't operate under such ridiculous premises.

When I worked for as a telephone operator for a company that rhymes with Spay Gee and Gee, they would insist that we ask people if they wanted to upgrade to person to person rather than just collect calls.  The interaction (given the area where I worked) often went like this:

Them:  I'd like to make a collect call to Sam.
Me:  Would you like to make that person to person?
Them:  What does that mean?
Me:  That means that you don't pay for the call unless you get the person you are trying to reach.
Them:  Why sure!  That sounds great.  Make it person to person to Sam.
Me:  There will be an extra charge for that service.
Them What?
Me:  It costs more to make a person to person call than just a collect call.
Them:  Well what do I want that for then.  (and occasionally something along the lines of you $%#@#$# people!)

The waitress at Tob Blevens had a funny and relaxed attitude about it.  She made us laugh on and off throughout the meal.  When she brought the check I had my plan ready.  I handed her a pile of $$ and said, "First of all, this is your tip."  Then I handed her another pile of money and said "Second of all, this pile is for some soup.  We don't really want any soup.  I just want you to sell some and maybe give it to your manager from us."

Doing the math while leaving, Mr. Sophanne said "You essentially just left a 50% tip," to which I replied, "It was worth every penny."