About six weeks ago I changed my eating habits.  Instead of wheat, potatoes, corn and sugar, I’m subsituting yogurt, green vegetables, fruit and honey.  Basically it is complex carbs out and simple carbs in.  Why?  Well I am over weight, but the driving emphasis is excess gas.  Maybe that is why I am single.  And I might add that the new diet has done wonders with the gas issue, so in my own way I am helping to prevent the warming of our planet.  Too bad I’ve only lost 8 pounds.  How I suffer for the betterment of mankind.

Anyway this post is not about my diet or at least mostly not.   Lela, my maid (acually she is an apartment cleaner, but for some pretentious reason I love calling her my maid), was cleaning on Tuesday as usual and I didn’t have an appointment till 11am, so I decided to get out of her hair, have breakfast at a diner and read the Times.  Since I had just cancelled my subscription to the Times which I had since the 80’s to save some trees I had to pay retail and was shocked to find the Tuesday edition cost two dollars.  How did that happen?  Last time I bought the Times it was 50 cents.  I felt like George Bush bumbling with the price of milk.  How out of date am I?  Clearly this paradigm shift did not bode well for the day.

So I took my $2.00 paper to that very trendy, post-retro diner at the corner of 11th Avenue and 43rd Street.  Sat down, asked for an omlette without the potatoes and toast and could I please substitute a small green salad in their stead.  No Substitutions!  I must pay extra for that small green salad.  Doesn’t a green salad cost less than potatoes and toast?  Aren’t I saving them money?  Has the value of lettuce increased while potato futures have fallen?  Does this have something to do with the Times costing $2.00?  What about costumer service?  God knows I obsess about making my clients happy.  Shouldn’t they be grateful I am eating there in these challenging times?  Don’t they want me to be a satisfied customer and tell all of my friends how fabulous they are?  Clearly I’m not in my happy place.  Despite my inner rantings, I calmly informed the waitress that their policy was absurd and I’d eat elsewhere.

Off I went to the neighborhood standard at 9th and 44th; they will understand.  I was told that a small salad was not available, but for a fee of 60 cents I could substitute sliced tomatoes for the potatoes and toast.  You mean I get the pleasure of eating out of season tomatoes for 60 cents more instead of consuming your bread and home fries?  I think not.  And while it was not a scene out of the titled movie, I did manage a huff or two upon leaving.

A third diner had the same results.

I skipped breakfast that morning, indignant and hungry.  If  only I had a Vespa to ride off on.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.