Mariment Laughter Yoga

     Gene laughs at my ability to get free steak dinners.  I don't plan on getting 'steak from heaven' when we go to our favorite restaurants, but it happens.

     I don't get my meal for free if I order chicken or pork.  But there's something magical about my relationship with steak that does it for me.

     I'm not one to complain about a meal.  I have images of the wait staff or kitchen help playing  fast and loose with my food before they return it to me, so I typically avoid complaints.

     But on the rare occasion when I am out and order a steak, I have exacting standards.  If I order the meat "medium-rare" they send it out well-done.  If I order the meat "with no seasoning" they dump salt & MSG on it like snow on a ski slope. 

     I don't want to pay for a steak that is burnt or one that freaks my palate, so when the manager asks (on the first bite), "How's everything?" I sweetly reply, "Uhmmm.  I ordered my steak medium rare" or "I ordered my steak without any seasoning."  I know the response by rote: the manager apologizes and orders up another dinner for me. 

     If the first steak was slow, the second one is even pokier. And of course I get concerned.  Exactly how much play is going on in the kitchen? By the time my new steak arrives, everyone else is finished eating and my salad has settled nicely in my stomach. My tummy tells me, "It's too late to eat a whole dinner now!"  So I end up taking half the steak home.

     I really appreciate the free steak dinners, but my husband is convinced that I'm sending out some strange vibe that is blocking restaurant staff from sending my dinner out right the first time.  If that's the case, I hope the vibe also prevents them from playing "plate in the pants" with my second steak before they send it out...