A grope in revenge leads to drama

Almost everyone had a favourite restaurant back in the day, one you returned to time and again even while seeking out new ones. Having gone freelance and moved to Playfair House in North Sydney, I discovered Hercule La Botte. The attractions there were the excellent Italian meals that were real rather than fancy, the atmosphere created by the owner and the fact that Hercule the owner and I got along immediately and so well. I have always believed that the Italians are the Fijians of Europe, my highest accolade since I hail from the Fiji Islands, and Hercule was living proof of this. He laughed, he sang, he remembered your name, he was a genuinely welcoming and friendly man. We became firm friends.

I was a sufficiently reliable customer that a table was held for me, unless the place filled up before I turned up. It was a booth actually, overlooking the rest of the punters. One sat in a horseshoe with one’s guests and friends, looking down on the rest of the guests.

It was on one of these occasions that the incident of the glaring waiter came about. Seated in the horseshoe that day were two top executives of the Commonwealth Bank, for whom I had launched their first Bankcard, and my “Minder” who will be identified here simply as the self-titled  “ lovely and gracious”. Lovely she was but the gracious occasionally gave way to temptation, as this tale will tell.

Lunch, gloriously Italian with my usual complimentary bottle of the family grappa and a song or two from Hercule, was going along very nicely when there was a hell of a commotion beside us. It appeared that a waiter, an extraordinarily handsome Italian lad, had for no apparent reason simply thrown a tray filled with generous helpings of pasta and such high into the air. It landed with a very loud crash.

The cause of the incident became very quickly apparent to me, because as he knelt down to start picking up the mess the waiter glared up at “lovely and gracious’. Nobody had seen it and, because she was sitting beside me, I was the only one to learn the explanation. “I just couldn’t help myself.” she mouthed. It appears that the young man’s dramatic tray toss had been a quite natural reaction to being gripped firmly by the family jewels.

I later cleared the waiter’s good record with Hercule but that was not the only sequel. A day or so later the handsome young waiter turned up in our office. Carrying flowers, he had come to court his tormentor. She, on the other hand, probably considering that her first introduction may have given him ideas concerning her own anatomy, became suddenly bashful and sought my help in turning the lad away. This I refused to do. It served her right. It took her some weeks to dissuade her ardent suitor.

Having read this account, just before she sadly died, the lady in question denied that she gripped that waiter by the twins. Instead, she insisted that all she had done was to pinch his bottom. She did this, she said, in revenge for all the pinches she herself had suffered in that region of her shapely anatomy on a visit to Italy. Further, she said that only a fool would have dropped his tray. I accept her version. (You see how hard I have tried to approximate the truth in these ramblings?)

 

2 replies

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *