Are you being served?

     This past Super Bowl Sunday, I decided to head downtown for a bite to eat at one of favorite restaurants since I had no plans. I was in for a rude awakening.
   
     I headed in and sat at the bar. Every TV was on pre Super Bowl coverage. The restaurant was pretty much empty except for me, a table of seven people, and a couple that were sitting a few stools down from me.
    
     "Hi, can I get you something to drink?" the petite blond bartender asked.
    
     "Green tea," I answered. (It was a cold, blustery day).
   
      Little did I know, that cup of tea would be about the only service I'd receive. I sipped my tea and watched the television in front of me. The bartender chatted with the college age couple down the way from me. They talked about everything from her son to the couple's drunken escapades from a few weekends ago. I patiently sat and waited for her to speak to me. After about 15 minutes I assumed this wasn't going to happen.
    
     "Miss, can I have a menu?"
    
     "Oh, yeah," she said before grabbing a menu and handing it to me.
    
     As I looked over the menu, the bartender continued talking and laughing. She offered to refill the couple's martinis. Once again, the conversation veered back towards her son, who apparently is a spitting image of his father except for his eyes. His father apparently has "piercing blue eyes". Once again, I had to get her attention.
   
      I placed my order and she rang it up. She asked if I'd like another cup of tea, I opted for water instead. Her poor service had left me boiling enough. As soon as my water hit the bar top. Her conversation resumed. I have never felt so invisible in a restaurant in my life. I tried not to let my irritation show on my face as I waited for my burger and fries. I apparently failed. A waiter there looked at me and said, "You look really upset." I replied, "I am," with a Mona Lisa smile firmly in place. No need to be rude to him.
    
     The couple finally left. By then, I'd waited 35 minutes for my food. The bartender headed back to go get my food from the kitchen. I ate it and tried to let my mood improve. Suddenly, the bartender could be bothered with me. We chatted about the game and some of the players. My mood had indeed improved, but I was still left unimpressed with her service. I paid and left a tip. Not one I'd usually leave but a better one than she deserved.

     I've since decided that it will be a cold, blustery day in a place very south of the Equator before I go back there again. There is no reason for anyone to be ignored in a restaurant. There is a fine line between not pestering a customer and unbridled rudeness.