Separate tables
There's this new place where you can get a meal. And every time I go there it's crowded.
Then go somewhere else.
But the crowd's good. There's atmosphere and I know the regulars. And if you know the right people you can always get a seat.
That's a plus.
Sure it is. There's nothing worse than missing out when the tummy starts to rumble. But the trap is you have to take care who you sit with. This place is really special like that.
That sounds a bit toffy.
No, it's not like that, but you have to sit with your kind. It's all very cosmopolitan but you wouldn't want to mix it by dining where you weren't invited. You have to be seated at the right table and usually you need to be asked to sit down.
So if you get the call you should be OK.
OK for some. You can have a really good time and let your hair down but the conversation always drifts back to talking about the folk at the other tables. And it always sours things.
How?
People get resentful and mouth off about the other patrons. They call them a bunch of this or a bunch of that; after a time you feel as though you are breaking bread in the enemy's camp. If only we had the place to ourselves, you think, then maybe we would have a better time.
Wouldn't that be a good thing?
Some people actually believe that. They don't want to share their meals with anyone else outside their set. But the funny thing is that every table is dismissive of the one next to it. It's all, "who bought them?" and "look who just walked in". After a time every party is telling tales about all the others.
Maybe it's justified.
I am sure a lot of it is, but while everyone is going on about how different they are — how special or badly done by — they forget where the next meal is coming from. Some of us have to get up from table and cook it,while others must serve it, or take the dishes away. But none of us gets a say in the menu ... and we all pay through the nose for the meal.
In that sense, you are all patrons of the establishment.
You bet we are, and if it wasn't for our patronage there wouldn't be one.
It makes you think ...
That unity of patrons is the hope of the world?
... that we all do have something in common. That despite our differences — which may not be as real as we imagine — we are all diners. And that if we had a mind to it, together we could all march forward on our stomach. If we could only get our gastric juices to rise up as one then the whole world could be our oyster.
Now that's food for thought.
... Dave Riley