Invisible!

Below is a real letter that I wrote to a real restaurant tonight. I've never done that before. As I look back at it, I think this might be the kind of letter ancient local citizens write to newspaper editors. Until now, I haven't put myself in that category. I hope this isn't confirmation of that club membership.

I've heard and read that seniors feel invisible. I don't usually experience that. I can recall a few times - not many. I am usually out in front, not sitting quietly. Maybe that's why. Tonight was radically different. Maybe that's why I needed to write the letter.

August 11, 2010

Dear Mr.Italian Restaurant Owner,

I have never written a letter to a restaurant, nor do I normally even fill out evaluation/feedback cards. But tonight, I think I should write to let you know about our experience.

My husband and I walked in about 7:45, I guess. A young man greeted us and invited us to sit anywhere we wanted. We chose a table for two, pretty much in the middle of the room, and sat down.

We sat there for ten or fifteen minutes, not really worrying about the time. We were not in a hurry. The young man who greeted us went to the back. Another waiter came out and seemed to be enjoying speaking Italian to a table by the door.

We waited. I was happy with my husband’s company, and not really concerned. Then three more tables filled. The Italian speaking waiter hurried to give them menus, fill their water glasses, chat at length with them, take their orders, and bring them bread. We sat. No service.

I tried to catch the waiter’s eyes. No luck. After quite some time, when one of the tables seated after us received salad orders, and all other tables had been attended, we were offered water. I had to ask for menus.

We finally ordered, and our wine and dinners were delicious. However, most of the tables seated after we were had finished eating by the time our entrées arrived. About half way through dinner, I asked for bread – we’d not been offered any.

We like your restaurant. We enjoy your food. We drove from Los Osos just to eat there tonight. Then we felt overlooked, even ignored.

We are seniors. Could this be why? All other patrons were twenty and thirty something. Are we invisible? We felt that way. Our waiter focused on younger patrons. He didn’t see us sitting there.

Should we go back? Aren’t we important?

Just thought you should know.


Gaga