Three Pats of Butter and Five Slices of Bread

I don't eat out very often, although I do enjoy it. I just think there are usually better ways to spend my discretionary income rather than blowing it on a restaurant meal that I figure I can cook better myself. However on this occasion, we were celebrating a birthday, and ended up at the Cheesecake Factory, which usually has good food (and plenty of it), despite its pricey desserts.

This was the first time that I walked out of the Cheesecake Factory disappointed -- and also wondering how the server determines how much bread and how many pats of butter to give a party of two.

The Cheesecake Factory bakes some very good fresh bread that is provided at the onset of your meal. One type is a sweet, dark multi-grain type. The other is a white sourdough. When the waiter put down our loaves, the basket was rather skimpy. There were two slices of the dark bread and three slices of the white. And three small pats of butter.

Is this somthing that is taught in serving school? Do you always provide an uneven amount of bread for parties of two or four or six? And is there a rule that exists to give less butter than there are slices of bread? (The butter pats, by the way, have been shrinking in size for years.)

Although we ordered an appetizer, I still enjoy munching on the dark bread -- with butter -- but the waiter seemed to make himself scarce when I wanted to ask him for more of each.

But what really intrigued me was that when two young girls sat down at the table next to ours, they received a full basket of bread (at least five slices each of the white and brown bread) and seven pats of butter. They got twice as much bread and butter!

Is this discrimination? Did the server know these girls? Why were they given special treatment? Were they younger and sexier than me and my companion? Did they look like better tippers? So many questions, so few answers.

* * *

Whipped Cream

Homemade whipped cream is pretty darn good. If you have a good electric mixer (either a hand or stand model), you can make your own from heavy cream, available at Sam's Club for about $2.50 a quart, instead of the $4.00 it runs at regular grocery stores.

You have to keep your eye on the cream as it is being whipped, because if you let it whip too long, it will turn into butter. That's not a bad thing, since homemade butter is just as lucious. But it doesn't taste that great as a dessert topping!

All you need besides the cream is a little bit of powdered sugar which you add toward the end of the whipping process to give it a little bit of sweetness. Refrigerate any leftovers (if there are any).

This sure beats whatever you squirt out of those cans!

Frustrating Salesmen (and Saleswomen)

I'm not a fan of salespeople in general. There are only a few career sales people that I have run across over the years that have impressed me with their professionalism. Two of them (believe it or not) were new car saleswomen, and that is because I did my research before buying my cars and specifically asked to deal with a woman. One particulary good salesperson was more interested in building relationships, and that is what made him a great guy. We are still friends today, even though our professional relationship ended years ago.

Today I had the "pleasure" of dealing with a salesman who came to call on my mother to fit her for an orthopedic contraption that goes in her shoe. After quickly pulling a model out of his bag, he tied it on, had her walk a few steps and then pretty much quickly got out the door because his cell phone was ringing. I asked for literature about the product and/or instructions. (There were none.) Nor did he instruct her how to put it on. (I'm sure there must be a trick or two.)

I tried to show her how to use it, but I was also having difficulty, so I can imagine this device will end up not being used because the salesperson failed to fulfill his obligation to make sure all questions were answered and the product demonstrated before he slinked away.

I will be calling his company after I speak with my mother's physical therapist, since she initiated the referral.

Where have all the good salespeople gone?

Sticking with my First Choice

The Author at Work

Whenever someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said a nurse. Now I was only about four or five years old at the time, but the choices were nurse or teacher at that time, and I thought that carrying around "Nurse Nancy's" medical bag was cool.

Somewhere along the line I lost my interest in nursing -- probably around age ten, when I changed my mind and decided to be a newspaper reporter. I always liked drawing and writing and spent many happy hours pounding on an old manual typewriter at my grandmother's house. I also took old notebooks and turned them into makeshift newspapers, cutting out pictures from magazines and making up news stories to go with them. When I couldn't find an appropriate picture, I'd draw one.

Somehow, the stories were all tragedies of children being killed in fires and car crashes. Ewwwww.

I maintained my interest in journalism all through high school (I was editor-in-chief of the school's newspaper), but I became disillusioned in college when my creative writing teachers were less than supportive about my submissions. I ended up getting a degree in speech and theater, with a concentration in television production ... and the rest, as they say, is history.


Looking back, I probably should have stuck with my first choice, nursing, even though I can't stand to be around someone tossing their cookies. At least I'd have my choice of jobs and be making good money.

* * *

I Love my Dentist

I hate dentists. I think it's a fear many people have. My fear of dentists probably goes back to when I was about four or five, and our family dentist (Dr. Wasserman) didn't believe in using novocaine or any other type of numbing agent.

Over the years, I've had three good dentists. The first one I really liked came recommended by a friend. He was great, but soon after becoming his patient, I moved out of state. The second one I really liked "disappeared" from his practice, nowhere to be found. He was wonderful, reminding me of a dark-haired Harry Anderson (from Night Court).

After losing that dentist, my appointments were few and far between. I always gritted my teeth when I went to visit a new dentist, never knowing if I'd have a heart attack on the chair. I survived, but none of the dentists were worth recommending.

Until I found my my current dentist. He's great. Gentle, understanding and patient. He understands my reluctance to getting my mouth picked at and probed and he actually does what I ask him to do ... explain WHAT he's doing BEFORE he does it. Did I mention he has great listening skills?

Today I had my six-month check up and I saw Dr. Young for a total of two minutes. That was fine with me. The x-rays his technician took showed nothing of concern and his examination of my mouth also revealed no work needs to be done. (He's also honest, he could have told me I needed something fixed and I wouldn't have been the wiser.) Seeing him for two minutes was fine with me.

Oh ... I did find out what happened to the dentist who disappeared. He quit practicing dentistry and went into (of all things) DNA evaluation. He began working as a forensic scientist and became head of Washington, D.C.'s crime lab. Interesting career switch.

Writer's Block

Even though I spent most of my career writing (scripts, press releases, marketing materials, reports -- the list goes on), I seem to be writing more now than ever before. In many respects, it is more satisfying, since I'm not constrained (too much) by the expectations of other people. Of course, the pay is diddly-squat or non-existent. But there is something to be said about branching out into different areas and feeling good about many of the finished products. That is (as they say) -- priceless.

It's also nice to get positive comments from friends. They're either stupid or feel sorry for me.

The good thing about writing on a daily basis is that it helps keep the mind active. But in my quest for perfection (did I tell you I was a perfectionist?), I tend to spend too much time on projects, over thinking them to the point where I become stuck, and writer's block takes over.

Now what was I going to say?

If you promise to do something, then just do it!

Nothing annoys me more than people who promise things and fail to deliver. If you're one of those people, listen up. Don't mess with me. I've just about had it with empty promises and half-baked commitments. Today, I got so annoyed that I just may have gotten someone fired from his job. That was not my intent. I just wanted the folks in charge to know that you don't make promises you can't keep -- and if there's a problem, let someone know!

My 92-year old mother is getting twice-a-week visits from a nursing agency tending to a wound on her leg. On Tuesday, the nurse promised to drop some supplies off the next day. He forgot. He showed up on Thursday, but without the supplies. He then said he would drop them off on Friday between 10 and 11 a.m.

I went to my mother's and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

At 11:30, he called, saying he would be there in a half-hour. Still nothing. At 12:20, he called and said he'd be there by 1:00 p.m.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

At 1:20 he called .... now he said he would be there by 2:30.

I told him to FORGET IT, but he insisted he would be able to make it this time. I told him "fine," but told him to leave the materials on the ledge next to my mother's door and we would retrieve it (she was not going to be home).

Guess what. He never came.

So I called the main office today and spoke with a supervisor. They offered to send someone out today or tomorrow, but I said that was not convenient. Someone will now be coming Monday.

We'll see.