Too Little, Too Late

The waiter tried to make up for lousy service in the last fifteen seconds.

Too Little, Too Late

 

By Elton Camp

 

The hostess politely led us to our seat

In the restaurant where we came to eat

 

The waiter was too slow coming around

And even then it was with a surly frown

 

The specials under his breath did mumble

Despite the eating spot’s too loud rumble

 

We didn’t order the most costly on the menu

Roll his eyes and sigh is what we saw him do

 

Ones who came later were served before us

But we were patient and didn’t make a fuss

 

It was nearly and hour before we got a bite

And even then, neither order was fixed right

 

Waiter made us wonder if he was brain dead

We had to ask three times to get any bread

 

Our used plates and bowls he didn’t collect

That we need more drinks he failed to detect

 

When it came the time the check we did need

Only then did he respond with any real speed

 

“It’s been a real pleasure for me to serve you.

Is there anything else that you need me to do?”

 

The obnoxious smile that was on his ugly face

Showed that a big tip he hoped he’d embrace