Too Little, Too Late

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