We found ourselves in Wylie's around midday on a beautiful Sunday. Some of us ordered lunch while others justified getting a very late breakfast.
The restaurant was clean, opulent and well-lit. The bar and the liquor shelves had a Victorian look and a classy mahogany finish. There was even a sizable library of classics next to the restroom. I suppose the patrons of this establishment like to brush up on their Tolstoy after their morning coffee.
I was well within reason to expect, at the very least, a satisfactory meal. I ordered my eggs over-easy and toast sans butter. The eggs I got were cooked over-hard and dry as a bone. The two slices of bacon and eight, that's right, eight measly home fires would have left Nicole Richie hungry. To make matters worse, the toast was drenched in butter. Thankfully, a trusted companion offered me some consolation onion rings and a bite of his steak sandwich, which was clearly necessary.
I think it is very unfortunate that a waitress with such poor listening skills has been left in charge of such a classy restaurant with so much potential. I always try and give people in the service industry the benefit of the doubt but when you only have a single table to tend, I expect more of an effort.