Years ago, my good buddy PK and I were heading out to a fancy restaurant in Shadyside (Pittsburgh). All day long we had been craving a martini. A good ole classic James Bond martini. This place had good martinis and when we took our seats, PK pounced on the waiter: "Martini, please!"The waiter, very serious, took out his note pad and proceeded to ask:
"Neat or on the rocks?"
"Shaken or stirred?"
"Gin or Vermouth?"
"Beefeater or Tanqueray?"
"Dry or Wet?"
"Olives or with a twist?"
The waiter paused after each question to write down the response. All the while, PK looked more and more distressed until finally, after the waiter had left, he turned to me and said "was that guy pulling my leg or was he serious?"
I just ordered a beer.
I hadn't thought of that incident in years, but it popped into my head the other day when my wife was making an egg sandwich for my Dad and asked such a litany of questions (whole wheat or white, runny yolk or firm, with ham or without, with cheese or without, etc.) that I felt the recipient would no longer enjoy the sandwich. I then told her the PK story above as if I had had it on my mind everyday for the past 15 years and it was of great import. She looked at me as if I were crazy. Which I probably am, but I feel there is a kernel of truth in here somewhere; lurking about waiting to be elucidated. When I figure it out, I'll let you know.
This is always how I feel when I order deli meat or cheese at the deli counter in the supermarket. I sometimes, get a feeling of anxiety, that comes over me as I'm waiting, cause I'm pondering over the different questions they're going to ask me when I ask for 1/2 lb of turkey or a 1/2 lb of American cheese.
ReplyDeletemaybe the kernel of truth is
ReplyDeletegreater choices does not always equal greater enjoyment and can actually be disempowering rather than empowering...