oh my, uno chicago grill

It was on a Friday of this month that my aunt Irene, my sister Anna and I went to the Tanger Outlet Center in Tilton, NH. Before wending our way to the stores we stopped at Uno Chicago Grill. The takeout menu says that this restaurant is a registered trademark of Pizzeria Uno Corporation.

I always thought that when you enter a restaurant and you’re not acknowledged within the first five minutes, esp. when you’re in sight of three employees, the smart thing to do is turn around and leave. We didn’t, but we should have. We waited and waited while two employees stood nearby-talking. Not wanting to upset my aunt, I said nothing. I think Anna felt the same way. FINALLY we were told there’s a table for us. On the walk to the table were a number of empty places. We sit; we wait. Ten minutes pass. I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and say that perhaps when we walked into the restaurant we became invisible and now can be seen only intermittently. Well, what else could it be? FINALLY I see someone coming toward our table. “Do we want water?” she asks. Quickly we respond, “Yes, thank you. We do. With lemon please.” Hoping that the pattern has been broken.

Do you believe that it took a very long time to bring the water? I wanted to get up to check things out, but then there was the matter of my aunt. She’s sweet, she’s loving, she enjoys life and chatting, and she seemed comfortable. The water came minus the lemons. Forty minutes have gone by and we’re no where near giving our order.

I’d like to tell you that as time went on the service pepped up. However, when the entrees FINALLY arrived and this ‘n that was missing, we had to say something. So we complained a wee bit. Nothing dramatic as we didn’t want to upset my aunt. We later learned that she’d been wise to all this, but was too polite to say so. It’s quite interesting to have to write that there was no response forthcoming from the waitress when we complained. I assumed it was the manager who brought our salads and heard the conversation with the waitress. Yet, he said nothing either. A little communication from anyone in a position to give an explanation would have gone a long way.

Now this is the surprise. When it was time for the check the waitress informed us that the bill was on the restaurant, and, “Do we want dessert?” The thing is you’re much too late, Uno Chicago Grill. We three rarely get together as such, and would happily have paid the bill for a more pleasant experience. And about that dessert, “No, thank you.” we said. After all, the stores will close in five hours, we haven’t time to wait for dessert.

Whew! What a pleasure it was to be on our way. Some days you just walk into the. . . .

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