N Y C
27-11-2005, 19:34
It is very rare that I will do free writing in my own time. But I had such a funny/depressing experience on Thanksgiving eve in terms of life as a teenager I just had to write this down.
No respect at all...
One would think, in today’s progressive society, that teenagers would at least be afforded the same respect given to dogs. Alas, this seems not to be the case. Having lived all of my almost 14 years in New York City I can tell you that even there, on that ultra-liberal American island off the coast of Europe, it’s still difficult being a teen. No matter how well behaved my friends and I are, every single business we enter seems to hold a personal grudge against us. I know there’s that stereotype of kids and teenagers causing trouble but, honestly, we aren’t all menaces to society.
Let’s take, for example, a day last week. It was Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, so our school let out at 12:00 instead of the normal 3:30. We had already planned everything out earlier in the week: a walk over to a cheap place for lunch, followed by a movie. It turned out that the time we wanted to see had sold out, so we had about 3 and a half hours to blow. No problem.
For lunch, we split up: some of my friends went to a sandwich shop, while two other friends and I went to the Chinese restaurant next door. Big mistake, as we found out. Practically the moment we sat down, an irate woman who spoke so fast she was unintelligible came to take our order. We told her we weren’t ready, and she stormed off in a huff.
It was unusually cold for November, but thankfully, we got our tea pretty quickly. I’m not a student of Chinese culture, but I believe tea is normally served with cups, no? It took another five minutes to get the attentions of one of the hypersonically zipping waiters, when, finally, we got our cups.
By then, we were ready to order, having been there about 15 minutes. But did they notice us? Nope. All around us, people who had sat down about the same time were contentedly waiting for their food, or already eating. But there we sat, the lone teenagers in the joint, ravenous and trying desperately to hail one of the waiters again. I basically had to stick my hand out in the middle of the aisle to stop one of them, who grudgingly took our order, but not before pointing out we mispronounced what we ordered. Gee, sorry. Chinese Menu Pronunciation isn’t a mandatory class until 10th grade.
Astonishingly, our food actually arrived on time, and we gobbled it down despite the several vegetables in the soup we couldn’t identify on the menu. I got up to go to the bathroom and almost bumped into someone who hissed that it was rude of me to not get out of the way of someone careening down a two foot wide aisle at 50 miles per hour.
Finishing up the meal, we asked for the check. Unlike our other experiences, it was delivered at lightning speed, as if they wanted us out as fast as possible. I fumbled around in my jacket for my wallet; I had agreed to pay for this one. Seconds later, Irate Woman looped back, barking at us “You pay now! NO STALL! You pay!” I wondered what the ratio between customers at that restaurant and those who commit suicide is.
Now, my friends urged me to not leave any tip at all but, being the guilt-ridden gentleman that I am, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Besides, imagine what the woman’s reaction might have been. Instead, I did put a very paltry tip on the table; less than 10% if I remember correctly. I was flabbergasted by what happened next. As we were getting ready to go, the waitress returned to take the bill, looked at the tip, and actually TURNED AROUND and refused to take it. Oy vey…
Fed up, I put a few more coins on the table and we angrily left. Our other friends were not quite done eating yet, so we decided to go over to the Borders adjoining the movie theater to look at CDs. Sadly, the horror continued.
When we got upstairs to the CDs, we dumped our heavy stuff in the corner. I’m talking about backpacks brimming with 5 days of homework and heavy winter coats. We didn’t want people to trip, so we put them off in a corner where no one would notice them. Naturally, a passing clerk’s teen-senses were tingling, so we wound up lugging this heavy stuff as we browsed the store.
Our excellent luck continued as my friend dragged me to the kids section to look for a gift for someone. Remember Irate Lady? Well, guess what? Conveniently, her older, American , librarian sister was standing right next to us. Approaching suspiciously, she interrogated us: “What are you kids doing out of school so early in the afternoon?”
Oh great, the truancy police. Yet, staying collected, I put on my sweetest, most responsible sounding voice to respond.
“You see, Madame, we have a half day today, as tomorrow is Thanksgiving.” I don’t know about the rest of the country, but in New York City everyone is out for the holiday by the time we had this conversation.
Affirming that she had heard of the holiday, she gave a brisk nod and walked away slightly, her eyes boring into us like drills. Thankfully, her monster-like gaze was drawn off us…to my other friend, whom she promptly snapped at for using the digital music catalogue. Apparently, anyone using technology put in the store for your convenience but is under the age of 16 is by default “playing” with it.
Groaning and sadly reiterating this tale for the rest of our friends, we settled in for the long wait for our movie to start and, at the back of my mind, I half-jokingly wondered if I was channeling Rodney Dangerfield.
I don’t get no respect, no respect at all…
No respect at all...
One would think, in today’s progressive society, that teenagers would at least be afforded the same respect given to dogs. Alas, this seems not to be the case. Having lived all of my almost 14 years in New York City I can tell you that even there, on that ultra-liberal American island off the coast of Europe, it’s still difficult being a teen. No matter how well behaved my friends and I are, every single business we enter seems to hold a personal grudge against us. I know there’s that stereotype of kids and teenagers causing trouble but, honestly, we aren’t all menaces to society.
Let’s take, for example, a day last week. It was Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, so our school let out at 12:00 instead of the normal 3:30. We had already planned everything out earlier in the week: a walk over to a cheap place for lunch, followed by a movie. It turned out that the time we wanted to see had sold out, so we had about 3 and a half hours to blow. No problem.
For lunch, we split up: some of my friends went to a sandwich shop, while two other friends and I went to the Chinese restaurant next door. Big mistake, as we found out. Practically the moment we sat down, an irate woman who spoke so fast she was unintelligible came to take our order. We told her we weren’t ready, and she stormed off in a huff.
It was unusually cold for November, but thankfully, we got our tea pretty quickly. I’m not a student of Chinese culture, but I believe tea is normally served with cups, no? It took another five minutes to get the attentions of one of the hypersonically zipping waiters, when, finally, we got our cups.
By then, we were ready to order, having been there about 15 minutes. But did they notice us? Nope. All around us, people who had sat down about the same time were contentedly waiting for their food, or already eating. But there we sat, the lone teenagers in the joint, ravenous and trying desperately to hail one of the waiters again. I basically had to stick my hand out in the middle of the aisle to stop one of them, who grudgingly took our order, but not before pointing out we mispronounced what we ordered. Gee, sorry. Chinese Menu Pronunciation isn’t a mandatory class until 10th grade.
Astonishingly, our food actually arrived on time, and we gobbled it down despite the several vegetables in the soup we couldn’t identify on the menu. I got up to go to the bathroom and almost bumped into someone who hissed that it was rude of me to not get out of the way of someone careening down a two foot wide aisle at 50 miles per hour.
Finishing up the meal, we asked for the check. Unlike our other experiences, it was delivered at lightning speed, as if they wanted us out as fast as possible. I fumbled around in my jacket for my wallet; I had agreed to pay for this one. Seconds later, Irate Woman looped back, barking at us “You pay now! NO STALL! You pay!” I wondered what the ratio between customers at that restaurant and those who commit suicide is.
Now, my friends urged me to not leave any tip at all but, being the guilt-ridden gentleman that I am, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Besides, imagine what the woman’s reaction might have been. Instead, I did put a very paltry tip on the table; less than 10% if I remember correctly. I was flabbergasted by what happened next. As we were getting ready to go, the waitress returned to take the bill, looked at the tip, and actually TURNED AROUND and refused to take it. Oy vey…
Fed up, I put a few more coins on the table and we angrily left. Our other friends were not quite done eating yet, so we decided to go over to the Borders adjoining the movie theater to look at CDs. Sadly, the horror continued.
When we got upstairs to the CDs, we dumped our heavy stuff in the corner. I’m talking about backpacks brimming with 5 days of homework and heavy winter coats. We didn’t want people to trip, so we put them off in a corner where no one would notice them. Naturally, a passing clerk’s teen-senses were tingling, so we wound up lugging this heavy stuff as we browsed the store.
Our excellent luck continued as my friend dragged me to the kids section to look for a gift for someone. Remember Irate Lady? Well, guess what? Conveniently, her older, American , librarian sister was standing right next to us. Approaching suspiciously, she interrogated us: “What are you kids doing out of school so early in the afternoon?”
Oh great, the truancy police. Yet, staying collected, I put on my sweetest, most responsible sounding voice to respond.
“You see, Madame, we have a half day today, as tomorrow is Thanksgiving.” I don’t know about the rest of the country, but in New York City everyone is out for the holiday by the time we had this conversation.
Affirming that she had heard of the holiday, she gave a brisk nod and walked away slightly, her eyes boring into us like drills. Thankfully, her monster-like gaze was drawn off us…to my other friend, whom she promptly snapped at for using the digital music catalogue. Apparently, anyone using technology put in the store for your convenience but is under the age of 16 is by default “playing” with it.
Groaning and sadly reiterating this tale for the rest of our friends, we settled in for the long wait for our movie to start and, at the back of my mind, I half-jokingly wondered if I was channeling Rodney Dangerfield.
I don’t get no respect, no respect at all…