Fuck.
I put my head in my hands, taking a deep breath, uncertain if I can handle reading anymore. But my curiosity is somehow greater than my need to avoid pain.
It is truly rare that I am so deeply surprised by the mediocrity of the food at such a fine establishment. But it is even rarer that I am so deeply offended by the selective service. What really shocked and appalled me more than the bland and lifeless meals, was the way that I was dismissed and ignored by all the staff at The Willow (arrogantly named after its heiress owner.)
The food was dreadful. But the experience was worse. Miss Wintergreen completely avoided me all night, refusing to even make eye contact with me. When she walked by my table, she acted like I was invisible. One glance at me, and my skin color, and she decided I wasn’t worthy of even a basichelloorwelcome.
Now this would be fine—maybe she’s just not super friendly. But she then proceeded to shower animmenseamount of personal attention on a rich, white, older gentleman. Catering to his every whim and fancy. Sitting and chatting with him for several minutes at a time.
If you are a person of color, this may not be the restaurant for you to dine at. They will make you sit at the inferior tables. Make you wait for hours longer for your food than the prioritized individuals with less melanin in their skin. But if you’re comfortable with feeling like a second-rate citizen, and would enjoy the historically authentic experience of segregation—definitely make a reservation. Maybe you’ll get a kick out of imagining you’re in the Civil War era or American revolution—like a little restaurant-Renaissance fair. Better yet, if you have unresolved daddy issues and low self-esteem, and feel like you're not worthy of respect, equality, and good service, this may be just the restaurant for you.
But now let's discuss the food…
Fuck.
I’m ruined. I might as well apply for bankruptcy right now. He utterly destroyed me. My business has been totally and irrevocably annihilated.