Dear Editor:
A situation arose today that caused me to feel extremely nervous as our society continues to make its transition to a service based economy.
I am a former area resident who visited to have lunch with my father. The last time I had lunch in the Tamaqua area, I found Basile Italian Delight very enjoyable and asked my father to go there with me again today. I now regret that decision.
After carefully reviewing the menu, my father chose a sandwich called an Angel Steak, which appeared under the burger section. When the sandwich arrived, my father was surprised to see that the sandwich did not feature steak, but chicken. Concerned that he had received another patron’s meal, he asked the waitress if this was in fact what he ordered. She told him it was. Still not feeling right, and a bit mislead since he expected a sandwich with red meat, he asked a second time and requested a copy of the menu to review the description of what he had ordered. Another woman brought a copy of the menu to him, pointed out that there was no description of the item and assured him it most certainly was what he ordered. I later learned that this woman was Paula Basile, an owner of the restaurant. When we questioned why something would be called “steak” when it was in fact not steak at all, she curtly responded, “I’m not going stand around and argue with you. Can I get you something else?” Taken aback by her rude tone and feeling somewhat embarrassed and upset by the way he was treated, my father asked that they just bring him a carry out box as he was no longer hungry. He later told me that he also did not feel like waiting for them to bring him something else because it had taken quite a while for them to bring us our dishes in the first place.
Upon leaving, the cashier asked us if everything had been ok. My father tried to find polite words to use while still being honest. As he began to answer the cashier, Ms. Basile approached us again. She defensively stated that she had offered him another meal. At that point, I stepped in and offered my opinion – that the name of the dish was misleading and irresponsible as there are people out there with various food allergies and dietary issues. Of course, I could now see why she would want to call it “Angel Steak” since “three dry chicken fingers on a bun with a piece of lettuce” does not sound nearly as appetizing. Ms. Basile began to argue with me, telling me that “chicken of the sea” is not really chicken, either. Thinking that she might want business advice from someone more intelligent than Jessica Simpson, I suggested that she should add a description to the item so that people would know exactly what they were getting. I am an educated business professional with consulting experience. I was only trying to help her. She then raised her voice at me telling me that she has many years of experience in the restaurant business and that she was not interested in my feedback. I’m not sure what capacity of business Ms. Basile operated in over her years of experience but her managerial skills could use some fostering. I told her that she just lost a customer, not because of the menu issue but because of her attitude. To that she retorted, “I really don’t need customers like you anyway!” Really? The last time I checked we were in a suffering economy. Ms. Basile should be appreciative of every person who steps through her door. According to Dun and Bradstreet, restaurants only have a 20% chance of surviving their first two years. In fact, the very day that she opened her business, your newspaper ran a story about several area restaurants that had closed or were closing.
What incenses me most about this experience is the way in which Ms. Basile spoke to my father who is an elderly retired veteran. What ever happened to having courtesy and respect for others, especially your elders and customers? Ms. Basile never took any responsibility in her part of the misunderstanding, which alienated her customer. The only person who apologized to us was the waitress and this certainly was not her fault. Ms. Basile should have been thanking my father for coming to her restaurant. There are many other places we could have chosen for lunch on a Saturday afternoon, such as La Dolce Casa or Two Kings, both of which offer similar menus. I have visited these places for lunch during my visits and the owners and staffs of these establishments have always been nothing but kind and gracious to me. They will continue to get my business when I am in town. Perhaps Ms. Basile can learn from them. I wish her and her family nothing but luck in their endeavor. They need it.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
This is your life
Dear Anastasia,
I'm writing this blog for you. There are so many things I want to share with you but you are only six months old and don't understand what I'm saying. Someday you will. I hope this blog will help you understand the world as well as where you came from and maybe shape who you will become.
Let me start by telling you the story of your life so far. Once upon a time, your father and I met, fell in love, got married and traveled the world. Your daddy is an accountant who can be a little rigid and set in his mind as many people of German heritage can be. I like to think of myself as more of a partier/rocker, although deep down I'm really just as grounded as your dad. We both have MBAs and education is a strong value of ours. We are experiencers, going to concerts, new places and trying new things. We're also extremely liberal. These are things we hope you will value and cherish too.
Being liberal is what lead to your creation. You see, daddy was very excited about Barack Obama winning the Iowa caucus. He and I celebrated and two weeks later, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I took a test that let me know that you were about to rock my little world.
Being pregnant with you had many ups and downs. For the first time since I was a teenager, I was able to get a good night's sleep. I have had bouts with insomnia all my life but I was so exhausted all the time while carrying you. I loved feeling you move around inside me. I liked to watch my tummy shift and move while you turned around. Your father thought it was creepy. We had a few scares. I had to go for an amnio. That means that a doctor stuck a big needle in my tummy to take some samples of the fluid that was protecting you. Unfortunately, the doctor totally botched it and I had to do it a second time. You were okay, though. And that was when we found out you were a girl. We were so happy. We really wanted a girl. I also had a seizure during my gestational diabetes test. No one really knows why. You also turned around the wrong way two weeks before you were supposed to be born. You later turned yourself back to where you were supposed to be right before the appointment I had to have you surgically removed from my body.
Toward the end of my pregnancy, my blood pressure was getting kind of high. You were a week late and the doctor decided that it was time for you to come out. After a breakfast of Egg McMuffins, your dad and I went into the hospital on a Tuesday morning. I spent most of the afternoon with strong contractions, two minutes apart lasting for a minute and a half each (that means only 30 seconds of "down time") but the nice doctors gave me something called an epidural that night and I slept very comfortably. I listened to your heartbeat through a series of probes and machines. The doctor seemed to have some trouble connecting a probe to your head. I should have known something was up then. Sometime around 2 am, I heard your heartbeat slow down. Before I even had a chance to call for help, there were several people in my hospital room tending to us. They stopped my contractions to give you a break. At 5 am, Dr. DeAngelis came into the room, told me that even though my body was doing everything it could to push you out, I was not making enough progress for you to come out. So they gave daddy scrubs and wheeled me into an operating room.
Your birth was the most surreal experience of my life. Your daddy walked into the operating room in his scrubs and I did not even recognize him until he put his hand on my shoulder. I was shaking. I tried not to but the nice doctor who turned up the epidural told me that there was no way I'd be able to control it because of my hormones. I was worried that the doctor would have a hard time taking you out of my tummy but before I knew it, I heard you cry. You were born on a Wednesday morning, a little after 6:00. The nurse brought you over to me to show me what you looked like. You were so small but still bigger than I expected you to be. I could not believe it when they said that you weighed over eight pounds. They wrapped you in blankets and your daddy brought you over to show me. But I couldn't really get a good look at you. Then they said that they were going to take us back to our hospital room and that I would have to hold you while they wheeled us out of the OR. I was scared and told them not to but they insisted. We went back to the room and bonded while I tried to feed you.
Later, they moved us to a different room where we stayed for the rest of the our time at the hospital. I was tired and thirsty. The medicine started to wear off and I almost threw up all over you. They took you to the nursery. Your dad and I napped. I had a very long and hard recovery from the operation. It took several weeks for me to be able to stand up without pain. It would break my heart when you would cry and I could not just jump up and take care of you. Your dad was there for this time. He took such good care of us both. I will always be very proud of the way handled everything.
We came home the Saturday after you were born. I was really sick of being in the hospital by then. People came to visit you and grandma even stayed with us for a few days to help out. Daddy took vacation time from work for a month and my leave was for three months. During that time, you and I would do things like watch the Trivial Pursuit game show at 4 am. I'd eat Pop Tarts and we'd take naps while the morning talk shows were on. I liked being home with you and cherished every second.
As the holidays approached, I knew I would have to return to work. It was hard for me to enjoy them because of this. You and I had just settled into a routine. You were also just starting to do cute things like smile and laugh. I cried every day for the last two weeks of our time together. The morning I went back to work, your daddy brought grandma over to our house to watch you for the day. I left the house in tears because I knew how much I would miss you. I came home to see you during my lunch break and before I knew it, the day was over. We took grandma home and I played with you for the rest of the night.
In a few days, you will be six months old. You are beautiful and healthy. You giggle and smile for your dad and me all the time. You love your grandpa and grandma, too. You're not too keen on being around other people. You get that from me. Your eyes are blue and usually a little crusty. Your doctor says you have a blocked tear duct. I hope it clears up. Your hair is a dark blond color with a little bit of red when the light hits it. You like to play on your bouncy chair and your play mat. You hate cereal and fruit. You suck your thumb but only when you are calming yourself down and going to sleep. Sometimes I love you so much it hurts. When your Nana went to heaven, your Gramps told me that she loved me in a way that I would never understand until I had kids of my own. Now I know what he meant.
I'm writing this blog for you. There are so many things I want to share with you but you are only six months old and don't understand what I'm saying. Someday you will. I hope this blog will help you understand the world as well as where you came from and maybe shape who you will become.
Let me start by telling you the story of your life so far. Once upon a time, your father and I met, fell in love, got married and traveled the world. Your daddy is an accountant who can be a little rigid and set in his mind as many people of German heritage can be. I like to think of myself as more of a partier/rocker, although deep down I'm really just as grounded as your dad. We both have MBAs and education is a strong value of ours. We are experiencers, going to concerts, new places and trying new things. We're also extremely liberal. These are things we hope you will value and cherish too.
Being liberal is what lead to your creation. You see, daddy was very excited about Barack Obama winning the Iowa caucus. He and I celebrated and two weeks later, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I took a test that let me know that you were about to rock my little world.
Being pregnant with you had many ups and downs. For the first time since I was a teenager, I was able to get a good night's sleep. I have had bouts with insomnia all my life but I was so exhausted all the time while carrying you. I loved feeling you move around inside me. I liked to watch my tummy shift and move while you turned around. Your father thought it was creepy. We had a few scares. I had to go for an amnio. That means that a doctor stuck a big needle in my tummy to take some samples of the fluid that was protecting you. Unfortunately, the doctor totally botched it and I had to do it a second time. You were okay, though. And that was when we found out you were a girl. We were so happy. We really wanted a girl. I also had a seizure during my gestational diabetes test. No one really knows why. You also turned around the wrong way two weeks before you were supposed to be born. You later turned yourself back to where you were supposed to be right before the appointment I had to have you surgically removed from my body.
Toward the end of my pregnancy, my blood pressure was getting kind of high. You were a week late and the doctor decided that it was time for you to come out. After a breakfast of Egg McMuffins, your dad and I went into the hospital on a Tuesday morning. I spent most of the afternoon with strong contractions, two minutes apart lasting for a minute and a half each (that means only 30 seconds of "down time") but the nice doctors gave me something called an epidural that night and I slept very comfortably. I listened to your heartbeat through a series of probes and machines. The doctor seemed to have some trouble connecting a probe to your head. I should have known something was up then. Sometime around 2 am, I heard your heartbeat slow down. Before I even had a chance to call for help, there were several people in my hospital room tending to us. They stopped my contractions to give you a break. At 5 am, Dr. DeAngelis came into the room, told me that even though my body was doing everything it could to push you out, I was not making enough progress for you to come out. So they gave daddy scrubs and wheeled me into an operating room.
Your birth was the most surreal experience of my life. Your daddy walked into the operating room in his scrubs and I did not even recognize him until he put his hand on my shoulder. I was shaking. I tried not to but the nice doctor who turned up the epidural told me that there was no way I'd be able to control it because of my hormones. I was worried that the doctor would have a hard time taking you out of my tummy but before I knew it, I heard you cry. You were born on a Wednesday morning, a little after 6:00. The nurse brought you over to me to show me what you looked like. You were so small but still bigger than I expected you to be. I could not believe it when they said that you weighed over eight pounds. They wrapped you in blankets and your daddy brought you over to show me. But I couldn't really get a good look at you. Then they said that they were going to take us back to our hospital room and that I would have to hold you while they wheeled us out of the OR. I was scared and told them not to but they insisted. We went back to the room and bonded while I tried to feed you.
Later, they moved us to a different room where we stayed for the rest of the our time at the hospital. I was tired and thirsty. The medicine started to wear off and I almost threw up all over you. They took you to the nursery. Your dad and I napped. I had a very long and hard recovery from the operation. It took several weeks for me to be able to stand up without pain. It would break my heart when you would cry and I could not just jump up and take care of you. Your dad was there for this time. He took such good care of us both. I will always be very proud of the way handled everything.
We came home the Saturday after you were born. I was really sick of being in the hospital by then. People came to visit you and grandma even stayed with us for a few days to help out. Daddy took vacation time from work for a month and my leave was for three months. During that time, you and I would do things like watch the Trivial Pursuit game show at 4 am. I'd eat Pop Tarts and we'd take naps while the morning talk shows were on. I liked being home with you and cherished every second.
As the holidays approached, I knew I would have to return to work. It was hard for me to enjoy them because of this. You and I had just settled into a routine. You were also just starting to do cute things like smile and laugh. I cried every day for the last two weeks of our time together. The morning I went back to work, your daddy brought grandma over to our house to watch you for the day. I left the house in tears because I knew how much I would miss you. I came home to see you during my lunch break and before I knew it, the day was over. We took grandma home and I played with you for the rest of the night.
In a few days, you will be six months old. You are beautiful and healthy. You giggle and smile for your dad and me all the time. You love your grandpa and grandma, too. You're not too keen on being around other people. You get that from me. Your eyes are blue and usually a little crusty. Your doctor says you have a blocked tear duct. I hope it clears up. Your hair is a dark blond color with a little bit of red when the light hits it. You like to play on your bouncy chair and your play mat. You hate cereal and fruit. You suck your thumb but only when you are calming yourself down and going to sleep. Sometimes I love you so much it hurts. When your Nana went to heaven, your Gramps told me that she loved me in a way that I would never understand until I had kids of my own. Now I know what he meant.
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