Nantucket 2012—8
We dined in Dune last evening, which is a superb restaurant with elegant ambiance and terrific service. There’s an informal bar and eating area downstairs under a tent, and formal dining rooms upstairs and inside. The were fully committed on a Saturday night.
A mother, two sons, and a daughter, the kids all in their teens, were seated a few minutes after we arrived. It’s not unusual to see women without husbands here. My assumption is that the family stays for an extended time while the husband works, or it’s the mother’s turn to have the kids after the divorce.
They ordered soft drinks and seemed to peruse the menu at excessive length, until one of the boys said obnoxiously, “Are they charging us for ambiance?” Dune’s menus are posted outside, are on the internet, and one look at the place tells you what to expect. The mother and kids all agreed that there was something wrong with Dune (not with them) and literally ran out of the restaurant, not having paid for the dinks, muttering “This isn’t for us” to the help as they hastened out. Some lucky folks without a reservation would be seated in the now available table.
I see this all too often in restaurants: children eating steak with their fingers, talking on cell phones, making impolite demands of the staff—all while a parent or parents sit idly by, not wanting to interfere with their progeny “expressing themselves” or, more likely, having given up on the responsibility to tell their kids to shape up.
It’s uncomfortable watching a life being thrown away because of negligent guidance and radically permissive lack of caring. Dune doesn’t suffer through the loss of that family, that family suffers through the loss of civil behavior. “We misunderstood the menu, have changed our minds, and would like to pay for the drinks and leave a tip” is an honest and mature exit. Running for the exits is rather sad.
© Alan Weiss 2012. All rights reserved.
