For today’s Throwback Thursday, I want to tell you about something embarrassing that happened one time when I took my birth mom out to lunch. There was a new steak restaurant in town that I knew she’d enjoy, and the word “Roadhouse” was in the restaurant’s name.
My birth mom did not like a different restaurant that used to be in town with a completely different name, but the word “Roadhouse” was also in that title. So she was convinced that because the word “Roadhouse” was in both names, they were in fact one in the same. I kept telling her they were different, but she refused to believe me.
The current steakhouse was about twice the price of the restaurant that had closed. The atmosphere was less casual. The food quality was far superior. The side dishes were completely different. The location was across town from the old place that was closed. The servers at the new place dressed more professionally. There was a lot longer wait time at dinner because it was so popular. And the serving sizes were larger. There was really nothing similar between the two restaurants, other than the word “Roadhouse,” except that they both served roasted peanuts before the meal.
So after me goading and prodding her to try this restaurant out, I finally convinced her to go. After we placed our order, the waitress handed my sister’s drink to me to pass to her, and Coke was down the side of the glass. As such, both my sister and I had sticky hands, so we went to the restroom to wash before we ate. We left my birth mom alone at the table in our absence.
When we returned to our table, there were tons of peanut shells on the floor surrounding her chair! Worse yet, just as we sat, she tossed yet another handful down beside her feet! “What are you doing?” I asked her. “They gave you an empty basket to put those in!” (I think my face must have been about three different shades of red by then.)
As it turned out, she was still not convinced that this new restaurant was not the old steakhouse where people were encouraged to toss peanut shells on the floor. I told her to look around and see how clean the floor was under everyone else’s table.
She looked, then shrugged her shoulders and said, “Oh, well.” I was mortified! And at that moment, I realized that when she was resistant to going in the first place, I should have taken that as a sign to let her stay away.
Time to talk: Have you ever been embarrassed because of the actions of another person? Have you ever been to a restaurant where it’s encouraged to throw your food on the floor? If your parent had done this, would you have cleaned up the shells or left them there and hoped the waitress didn’t notice until after you left?