Years ago, I found myself in an 18th Century-themed restaurant in suburban Los Angeles. It was all ersatz 1753 Boston tavern replete with pewter mugs, drippy candles, dark fiberboard beams, a giant fake fireplace and prints of gentlemen in tricorne hats on horseback. It was bad and so was the chow, but parking was ample. As a theme for a chain of restaurants, the 18th Century has turned out not to be the sure-fire concept everybody thought it would. A hand-written card on the table proudly announced, “I’m Janie, your Serving Wench”. When at last she presented herself, I asked if she preferred to be addressed as “Janie” or “Serving Wench”.
© 2024 John Oliver
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