A story then, which I promise will eventually be on Jon's topic

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I do hate the current trend in restaurants where you leave your name and they give you a buzzer, then when your table is finally ready they bellow over a loud-hailer at you. How I miss the civility of the old days (and in distant lands) when Mr. Patil would seek you out in the lounge provided for the purpose and either quietly whisper in your ear or slip you a note when your table was ready.
I won't rail on about the idiot who first put televisions in restaurants for, although a related pet peeve, it's irrelevant for the moment. I do believe, however, he should be sought out, publicly knackered, and detained for life in a dark place without access to any video input of any kind.
Back to the specific charge, we strike our subtle blow against the loud rude present by always giving my Darling Bride's first name when asked by the gum-smacking 20-year old (the one usually dressed like a trollop in the bizarre notion that adds an attractively upscale tone to the establishment) what name a reservation is under or whose party our group might be. We then get to hear that self-same 20-year old calling over the microphone, "Donna, party of six." and have no idea what the dark humour might be.
Some people actually get it from time to time, which makes it all the more satisfactory.
