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
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