My
wife Marilyn and I went out for lunch with sister Marcia yesterday. It was Sunday and the host at Hazel’s in
northeast Minneapolis said we’d have about a 20 minute wait. This was just about perfect for Marcia I
thought, since she takes about that long to figure out what she wants. I found a menu and handed it to her.
“This is for you,” I said. “You’re got 20 minutes to decide.”
“20 minutes later we were seated. Marilyn and I were ready and ordered first.
Then Marcia. “Oh my, what do I want?” She began asking questions. “What kind of hash do you have? Is it fresh?
Hmmm…what kind of frosting is on the donuts?”
I tried to hurry her along. “The senior citizen bacon and egg special
looks good,” I said.
“Too ordinary,” said Marcia. “I can get that anywhere,” she said,
continuing to peruse menu, all of one page long.
The
waitress was patient. Marcia began to
order. “I think I’ll have the cinnamon
roll. No, no make that a donut. Can you heat it up a little please? But not too hot. They tend to get hard when they’re overheated
you know. I’ll have the pancakes….just
one pancake…do you have blueberry syrup? A waffle would be nice, but I see
they’re not on the menu. Is the coffee
fresh?...I think I’ll have an order of hash too.”
The formerly patient waitress was now impatient,
fidgeting with her feet while tapping on her order pad with a pen. After a few more hems and haws, questions and
changes of mind, Marcia was finished shopping.
The waitress departed. She wasn’t even in the kitchen yet when
Marcia sprang from her seat. What now, thought
Marilyn and I.
“What was that all about,” I asked when
Marcia got back to the table.
“I changed my order.”
“To what,” I asked.
“Bacon and eggs.”
