It's All about the Sauce (Part II) - Revenge of the Snooty Waiter

(In case you missed it, here's a link to "It's all About the Sauce, Part I")

About six months later, it was getting close to my wife’s birthday and I came across a Groupon that startled me. I thought it was for the Deep Cove Chalet. Actually, it was for the Brentwood Bay Inn. An easy mistake to make, if you're me, because Brentwood Bay and Deep Cove overlap on the map in my mind. On every other map in existence, they are about six miles apart. Just one of the many reasons more people rely on Google maps for direction, than rely on me.

So, in my mind I’m thinking Deep Cove Chalet, but the rest of reality is insisting that it’s the Brentwood Bay Inn.

I'm extremely stoked to find such a deal and my state of denial is so great that it does not occur to me that the Deep Cove Chalet French Cuisine Restaurant would never participate in something so gauche as a Groupon… for a 4-course sushi tasting event.

Instead of wondering why a French restaurant might host a sushi event, I’m thinking I’ve really scored big because, firstly, Junko loves Deep Cove Chalet, secondly, she loves sushi and, as an added bonus, I get to ask that waiter for a Japanese beer and I’m dying to hear him choke on his snooty comeback, while serving sushi.

I eagerly snap up the Groupon and even buy an extra, so that I can be a real hero.

Of course, upon opening her birthday present, my wife was quick to point out my error. The gift was not a big hit. In fact, at least six miles short of that.

My wife, Junko, is Japanese. As such, she is thrifty and efficient and considers buying at retail to be an extravagant waste. She peels stamps off of our mail and reuses them, extensively uses coupons and will return sub-par items to a garage sale. She absolutely hates it when I waste money—which is a bit of a shame, as it's one of my defter skills. She has taught both of my kids her thrifty ways but they love it when I waste money because berating Dad is good clean fun and watching Mom berate Dad is better than Sponge Bob.

So now we're obligated to go to a restaurant that neither of us would have chosen—though, technically, I did—and Junko's primed to be skeptical and hypercritical, going in. The sushi may not be cooked, but I'm pretty sure my goose is.  

Scotch, neat. And make it a double!

My only comfort is in knowing that my 1994 Ford Aerostar will not look as out of place in this parking lot as it did at the Deep Cove Chalet.

I am disappointed that I won't have the pleasure of one-upping that snooty French waiter.

Also, my Groupon-ing privileges have been revoked.

This round goes to you, Snooty waiter. But mark my words: You have not heard the last of me!

That might have been the scotch talking.

wmdean.com