O Harland, ye done me wrong

I know that as soon as I tell y'all about our Saturday night you'll be calling and writing and lining up to party with us. Because we're that kind of crazy fun.

We love Outback. Jim's dad loves to give us Outback gift cards, so it works out swell. Usually. We had wanted to go out to eat last night to celebrate Susannah's return from camp and Danny's football visit to his college.

We had to reschedule, though, because Dan's girlfriend needed his input on which prom dress she should get. She had picked out four but couldn't decide between them. Buying a prom dress these days is big stuff. Girls from our school have been known to travel to Chicago, and spend more on their dresses than I did my whole wedding. The shop where she had selected her dresses will not sell the same dress to two girls from the same school. So she knew she needed to act fast. I can't believe the pressure.

I have to say that of all my boys, Dan would be the most likely to go along with this assignment without balking or hyperventilating. Something went right in his genes or his training and he is actually a pretty good clothes shopper. We decided to wait until tonight to eat out, and that way we could celebrate the Doing Of The Saturday Chores, as well.

We interrupt this post to bring you an important report on The Dress.
They made a decision and she brought the dress by here and oh my word is it ever gorgeous. You know the dress that Glenda the good witch of the north is wearing in the Wizard of Oz when she comes floating down in that bubble? How it stands out around her in billowy layers of shimmery sparkles? Well that's what her dress looks like. In mint green.

Isn't she beautiful? If you could see her in this dress, you'd know that it was a completely legitimate reason to postpone dinner out. The words Fairy Princess spring to mind. And it makes me wish I could go back to my high school prom and wear something like this, instead of my Gunny Sax peasant dress that had a big bow in the back and ecru ruffles on the puffy sleeves.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled post, already in progress.

We thought we'd leave early enough to beat the Saturday crowds at Outback, and incorrectly guessed that if we were there before 6:00 we'd be in pretty good shape.

We just needed a quick stop at DB's to admire Baby JR on our way. His mom said we could go ahead and hold him because it was time for him to wake up, anyway. He's so cute and dear. Even when I played "patty feet" with him he did not want to wake up. But it was okay, because he was making all kinds of funny faces in his sleep. I'm pretty sure I'm not anywhere near that entertaining to watch while I'm sleeping. (This has been just a small rabbit trail on the road to the main story line.)

When we got to Outback at 5:50 there was an HOUR wait. The girl with the clipboard said that even if we'd been there at 5:00 we would have had to wait that long. As much as we love Outback, we were all too hungry to wait until almost 7:00. Jim left me there with the beeper while he drove up and down the main street, but every other eating establishment seemed to have hungry people spilling out into the parking lot as well. So we decided to forget the whole dining out experience and stop at KFC on the way home, because the "you were in a band?" commercials lately have been making me crave their mashed potatoes.

But the whole time in the car we had to try to ascertain that no one was going to be too upset about that plan. Because some of us were thinking we should try the Chinese buffet, and some of us were thinking we should try the sub sandwich place and some of us were thinking maybe Qdoba and some of us were kicking our brother's seat and some of us were grouching at our sister and some of us were embarrassed because Dan's girlfriend was with us and certainly this would never happen in her family.....

When you're feeding six ravenous people --people who are already a bit grumpy about spending the last hour salivating in anticipation of Outback steaks, only to have to settle for fried chicken -- and they all have different ideas about what kind of chicken they will even consent to eat, and you know you're going to need extra mashed potatoes, it can add up to a pretty big order. I felt confident that we were covered, simply because I'd ordered a little of everything, gave the girl my Visa card, took our two bags, and we were on our way.

We didn't realize until 25 minutes later once we were unpacking it all in our dining room at home, that we were missing the 12 pieces of chicken strips. The last thing we felt like doing was driving all the way back to the store, so I just called them up, trusting that they could credit my card. If it had been an order of french fries I wouldn't have bothered, but it wasn't a tiny amount of money. And there was a principle at stake. Plus one or two picky chicken eaters. Not to mention a husband who said that it would cost $6 in gas to drive there and back again.

But the sweet thing on the phone said there wasn't a thing she could do for me unless I came into the store tonight and brought my credit card with me. Jim thought maybe he could talk sense to a manager, but she in turn referred us to the 1-800 corporate number, where the helpful customer service agent said they'd have to submit the request or some such rigamarole, and we should have someone contact us by Tuesday to see IF we would be entitled to any money back.

Not "Oh, here, let us send you a coupon for a free bucket to compensate you for your inconvenience." Not "Oh, definitely let us credit your account and we'll go ahead and take off the cost of the 12 biscuits, as well." Not "We're terribly sorry that we're not set up to do credit card refunds, but the next time you stop into the store, we'll be happy to offer you 12 pieces of chicken strips and a medium popcorn chicken at no charge."

We'd been so hungry, but it was frankly hard to eat, what with all the smoke pouring out of Jim's ears and the tension so thick you could spread it on the biscuits. Clearly the days of "keep the customer satisfied" have passed away, along with the Colonel himself.


I think next Saturday night we'll stay home and eat peanut butter. There will be plenty -- just get your name on the phone ahead seating list and you can have some, too!