When the restaurant bill comes, I get a little uncomfortable, and not because I have a cheap streak.
There are two major parts to my discomfort.
1. Fraud and theft.
2. Paying protocol.
The fraud and theft part:
Yes, a lot of this is plain paranoia. But knowing that doesn't make me feel any better.
Amid all the talk of stolen identities and stolen credit card numbers, who in their right mind would allow their credit card to disappear from sight for five, 10, 15 minutes?
But I still, often, whip out my credit card for the waiter or waitress to take away, because that's the convention in a lot of places. And I fret when it doesn't return promptly. Should I go hunting for it after five minutes?
I've never done that, and the card has always come back, eventually, though I did get someone else's once (and, someone else got mine).
So, why don't I just use cash? I fret about that as well. Is it a good idea to just leave $50 on the table and leave? Will some other diner spot the cash and steal it?
The paying protocol part — some of the problems I've invented for myself, plus undeniable perils:
Of course, there's always the option of walking up to the cash register and handing over your card, and standing there while it is processed, while wait staff squeeze past with super-hot plates. But in a lot of places, there's no visible cash register, and if one is visible, no one is there.
Also, to back up a bit. There's the ordeal of getting the bill when you're ready to leave. Servers aren't always in sync with your needs, because they're juggling the demanding desires of 10 other tables. So you wait, and when the bill comes, you wait some more for the payment to be picked up. You wait some more for the receipt to come back. My semi-solution to this: hand over the payment as soon as the bill comes and before server leaves.
A new bit of trouble has surfaced with the arrival of those chip credit cards, where, in some places, you need to enter a code before the transaction goes through.
At Sura, the Korean place on Douglas, I handed over my card at the table. The waitress came back, and asked me to go to the counter because I had to enter my code. Same thing happened at Golden City, the dim sum place on Fisgard.
But at Pink Bicycle, the hamburger place on Blanshard, when I pulled out my card, the waitress said she'd be back in a moment. She returned with a wireless card reader. I stumbled over adding a tip - the proper button isn't apparent - and had to do it over again. Then, I struggled to find the OK button to finish the transaction. All the while, the waitress waited sort of patiently, prompting me through my fumblings.
Because of those awkward experiences, I'm using cash more often. I'm also defying convention, strolling up to a spot that hope is the paying spot, and hoping that I won't be ignored for long.
- - -
I saw Julie and Julia on Sunday. It's a great movie — better than I expected. Meryl Streep does a wonderful job portraying Julia Child. After a few moments, I pretty much forgot that it was Meryl Streep pretending to be Julia Child. It was Julia herself up there, living her life in France, discovering her love of French culture and food.
And the Julie Powell character isn't as hateful as some critics had led me to believe.
Lots of appreciative laughter from the audience, which was mostly women.
