| rev:text
| - It's been about 25 years I think.
For 25 years I've looked at Olive Garden the way that I look at white Chevrolets and JC Penney. An almost generic experience.
But you know, over a business lunch today I reflected how flawless the experience of Olive Garden really is. It's like what a Chevrolet or JC Penney should be, but neither is.
25 years ago I would have been marveling at America's new dedication to industrial rebirth and automation. GM was building cars with robots back then, you know. How beautiful the future looked. Automation! Computers! It was a second industrial revolution for America! Manufacturing was what America did well, by gum!
Well, nowadays most stuff is built in China. America's industrial base has shrunk. We still make planes and guns. And porn. But not a whole lot else.
And now, we have the clean and modern Olive Garden on Happy Valley Road, where I and my partner were greeted, seated, and beveraged within less than a minute, and attended to by a very pleasant young server (and his pleasant trainee) who was fully versed in the menu and capable in various varieties of small-talk. Within a reasonable time we were presented with our soup and salad, which was consistently prepared and reliably tasty.
For a main plate I ordered the Shrimp Primavera, which was delivered a perfect interval after the salad and soup course was finished. My friend had the Ravioli Alfredo, which looked delicious and got his thumbs-up. My dish was tasty enough, and the pasta was al dente. The shrimp were cooked just right--not overcooked and dried out as they usually are in other places. The breadsticks were well-presented--tightly wrapped and perfectly heated--and delicious.
During the course of the lunch our iced teas were refilled regularly, even by servers who weren't assigned to our table. There were regular checks on our welfare and our enjoyment of the meal.
Finally the check came, and given what we had consumed it was a very reasonable price. The waiter included a handwritten card thanking us, as well as a couple of Andes mints. I tipped him well.
There was nothing--NOTHING--to complain about. It was a wonderful lunch. It was full of positive feelings.
Except for this sobering realization, which probably only affects weird-asses like myself who just can't relax and enjoy:
Working in a place like Olive Garden is all that most of the new generation (like our waiter and his trainee and younger) will have to look forward to. It's what we as a nation still do well.
We serve precision-prepared breadsticks with a passion. And dammit, we do it well.
Try doing that over the Internet from India, you heartless capitalist assholes.
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