Verstitution Pt10

As indicated, I couldn't wait to read the restaurant scene again. Hopefully all readers will understand why... and forgive me for not procrastinating.
Pt9: https://rumble.com/v6xkkis-verstitution-pt9.html / 8: v6xax6u-verstitution-pt8.html / 7: v6x7qh8-verstitution-pt7.html / 6: v6x4cf2-verstitution-pt6.html / 5: v6x0v6e-verstitution-pt5.html

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Ernest: "Oh, yeah... Claudia? Madison is one of my clients, but it's a case of malicious prosecution that I'll soon be appealing, despite the incident involving a small fine. It could be good publicity for both of us, but let's talk about it some other time. Tonight is for celebration, fine cuisine, and maybe some shenanigans with the valet."

Claudia: "Definitely. I've never been to a place so fancy. I can't wait."

Madison: [Enthusiastic] "Me, neither."

[Claudia and Madison exchange friendly grins.

The Maître d' steps out of a closet with a monitor after having seen Ernest and the ladies for 4 minutes: as if he had something else to do besides hide in a closet and make people wait to promote his false sense of superiority.]

Maître d': "Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. [Nods at Claudia] Mademoiselle. [... at Madison] Monsieur. [... at Ernest] Bienvenue à Le Prix... Votre Âme."

Ernest: "Bonsoir! Table for 3, please?"

Maître d': "Do you have a reservation?"

Ernest: "I'm afraid not. Do you have any tables available?"

Maître d': "Absolument! I must inquire, however, in the event that I must clear the ledger."

Ernest: "Certainly. Thank you."

Maître d': "Oui, oui! This way, s’il vous plaît."

Madison: [Whispering to Ernest] "Is this guy for real? I think I've seen him working at the car wash."

Ernest: "I'm sure he is. He looks French."

Madison: "What does that mean?"

Ernest: "Aah, you caught me. I don't know. Why can't a French guy work at a car wash, though? What's wrong with that? Let's try to keep up with him. It's almost like he's trying to ditch us while clenching a walnut between his cheeks."

[Claudia overhears Ernest and has to cup her hand tightly over her mouth to avoid distrubing the other diners with her laughter. Madison shakes her head since she's proud to be in such a classy place for the first time, and hopes to make a good impression.

The trio hasten their pace, take a sharp left at the floor to ceiling window with a view of the city lights, and find the maître d' not quite being timely enough in transforming his glower into a welcoming grin.]

Maître d': [Pulling out a chair for Claudia] "Mademoiselle?"

Claudia: [Sitting and smiling] "Thank you."

Maître d': [Helping Madison] "Mademoiselle?"

Madison: [Sitting and smiling] "Merci."

Maître d': "Avec plasir!"

[Claudia appears confused.]

Claudia: "Monsieur?"

Maître d': "Oui, Mademoiselle?"

Claudia: "What does that mean, what you just said to Madison?"

[The maitre d' clears his throat and darts his eyes around the dining room as if there's a fire to which he must attend.]

Maitre d': "Ehh... It is... 'With pleasure,' Mademoiselle."

Claudia: "Ah. Merci."

Maitre d': "Avez-vous terminé?"

Claudia: "I'm sorry?"

Ernest: "I believe he wants to know if you're finished, Claudia."

Claudia: "Really?"

Ernest: "Undoubtedly. It's part of the ambience."

Claudia: "WHAT'S part of the ambience?"

Ernest: "I'll tell you in a minute. Let's allow him to get back to work. He's obligated to stand there until I sit."

[Ernest pulls out a chair and seats himself. The maitre d' speed-walks back to his closet to make more customers feel neglected.]

Claudia: "So what's the deal?"

Ernest: "He was being polite."

Claudia: "There's cognitive dissonance if I ever witnessed it."

Ernest: "No. He was being polite to Madison and me."

Claudia: "Why not me?"

Ernest: "Because you said, 'Thank you.'"

Claudia: "What?!"

[The amorous couple at the adjacent table stall their staring contest to shush Claudia.]

Ernest: "Yeah... They expect you to know a wee bit of French, and apply it at every possible opportunity."

Claudia: "You'd think they'd have taught us things like that in school."

Ernest: "They do, in French class, but it's more a universal requirement to abandon English from day 1."

Claudia: "Oh. I took 2 years of Spanish."

[Claudia turns to Madison.]

Claudia: "Did you take French, Madison?"

Madison: "No, but I've seen some movies, and it always sounded so dignified when Americans said 'Merci' to the waiters."

[Claudia nods her head in approval. The waiter approaches with a pitcher of ice water.]

Waiter: "Bonsoir! Eau glacée?"

Ernest: "Oui, s’il vous plaît."

[The waiter pours into everyone's glass.]

Waiter: "May I start you with some Hors d'Oeurves and champagne?"

Ernest: "Certainement! What would you recommend?"

[Claudia rolls her eyes at Ernest showing off, broadcasting his restaurant French to all patrons nearby.]

Waiter: "Gougeres ou aubergines frites."

[Ernest looks to Claudia and Madison.]

Ernest: "How about we try both?"

[Claudia and Madison respond "Sure" and "Oui" respectively. Claudia nods and smiles at Madison's playfulness at her expense.]

Waiter: "Et le champagne, Monsieur?"

Ernest: "Uh... Something nearer the budget friendly class."

Waiter: [Scoffing] "Monsieur? We only offer ze finest champagne."

[Ernest does a doubletake at the waiter's face.]

Ernest: "Hey? Haven't I seen you working the fryer at that Cajun chicken sandwich shop?"

[The waiter turns white as a ghost.]

Waiter: [Shout whispering] "Dude?! I've got an image to maintain. Don't blow this for me. I make more in tips for one table than I did working an entire shift at that slop joint. I could make this really bad for you."

Ernest: "How so?"

[The waiter wryly smiles at Ernest.]

Waiter: [Shouting] "Monsieur?! If you want budget champagne, I am afraid you have come to ze wrong place! Vy doan ju try ze quickie mart, eh? I hear zeir... how you say?... microwave burritos are quite filling, as well."

[Ernest begins chuckling heartily, as does Claudia. Madison is far too disappointed to be amused. So many patrons walk out that the maitre d' is afraid to emerge from his closet. Processing so many bills quickly enough to please the regulars is so overwhelming that he feels glued to his chair, stricken with a sudden onset of hysterical paraplegia.

The manager approaches their table. The waiter has seen all the diners suddenly rising from their chairs, and is frozen stiff in emotional shock.]

Manager: [Glaring at the waiter] "Aller à mon bureau, immédiatement!"

[The waiter walks hurriedly to the manager's office, as instructed.]

Manager: "I am terribly sorry. This restaurant does not condone that type of behavior from our serving staff when customers request a budget friendly brand of champagne. Allow me to bring you a chilled bottle and a large sample platter of Hors d'Ouerves, all on the house.
Additionally, I will take 50% off the price of your meal. Please accept my sincerest apologies."

Claudia: "Merci."

[Ernest and Madison look at Claudia with their eyes widened, shaking their heads.]

Manager: "Are you belittling the French?"

Claudia: [Nervous] "Oh, heavens no! My friend, Ernest, had just finished telling me..."

Manager: "Don't worry. I'm joking with you. I'll be right back with some menus, your starters, and champagne."

[The maitre d' is heard 30 feet away, shouting inside his closet.]

Maitre d': "I can't stand up! Somebody get me outta here!"

One of the disgruntled patrons waiting to pay his bill hears the plea for help, as all the disgruntled patrons did.]

Disgruntled patron #1 (DP1): "What's the problem, sir? I'm a doctor."

Maitre d': "I can't move my legs!"

DP1: "Did you injure yourself?"

Maitre d': "No!"

DP1: "It might be hysterical paraplegia."

[A second disgruntled patron also happens to be a doctor.]

DP2: "You can't diagnose a patient you've not yet examined! He could have a tumor!"

Maitre d': "I heard that! 'Might be...' 'Could have...' Same difference, you hypocrite quack!"

DP3: [Trying the knob, finding it locked] "Are you able to reach the door, sir?"

DP1: "Excuse me? Are you a doctor?"

DP3: "No, I'm a locksmith."

DP1: "Then stay out of this! How can you afford to eat here, anyway?! We're all doctors, lawyers, and CEOs!"

DP3: "Uh... Yeah... I'm a CEO of a Tri-State chain of locksmith shops, Dr. Footinmouth."

DP1: [Blushing from humiliation] "Oh..."

DP3: "Now... Did you want to grab your scalpel to perform surgery on the door, or shall I go grab some tools from my trunk?"

[The peripheral disgruntled patrons are, for a moment, amused bystanders.

The manager has no choice but to attend to the disgruntled patrons and his maitre d', so he sends the head chef to serve every whim of Ernest, Claudia, and Madison.

The head chef approaches the party of 3, as ordered by the manager, with another waiter carrying a platter in his left hand and a bucket in his right, filled with ice for the champagne. An 18 inch, round sterling silver platter is placed in the center of the table, containing gougères (cheese puffs), aubergines frites (fried eggplant), stuffed squid, and duck pâté, surrounded by baby carrots, pea pods, young corn, and lightly salted crackers, with a 5oz bowl of French onion dip in the center.]

Chef: "Bonsoir! I'm Maël, the head chef, and this is one of our servers, Jean Louis. The manager had to attend to several other patrons due to our maitre d' suddenly becoming incapacitated. I'll be seeing to any of your needs for the remainder of your visit. Here are your menus, and Jean Louis will be pouring your champagne momentarily. Please don't hesitate to ask if you should be requiring anything. Bon appétit!"

[Claudia, now etiqutte confidence challenged, looks to Ernest and Madison as a 'Wait 'n' see' strategy.

Ernest and Madison respond, "Merci," in unison. Claudia's back is to the chef, so she presumes that she escaped detection in her state of silent social distress.

Jean finishes pouring the champagne.]

Jean: "Bon appétit!"

[It's enough mercis, already, so everyone nods and grins at Jean. He leaves the table. The trio grab appetizers and then open their menus.]

Madison: "There are no prices. How are we going to know what 50% is, Ernest?"

Ernest: "Good question. We can't just wait for the bill, however. I'll have to inquire when we place the order."

Claudia: "Isn't it faux pas to inquire about the prices whenever they don't bother providing you with them?"

Ernest: "Yes, that's true. This should be interesting."

Madison: "Couldn't you ask one of the people who walked out, waiting to pay the bill?"

Ernest: "Well... the manager is RIGHT there, so..."

[Ernest shakes his head. Madison shrugs in defeat.

Meanwhile, the manager is desperately thinking of a way to be diplomatic, but is also terrified by the prospect of the clientele learning that the maitre d' habitually hides in a closet, wasting as much as 10 minutes of their time during each visit.]

Manager: "Ladies and gentlemen?"

[The disgruntled patrons turn to the manager, standing behind the maitre d' podium.]

Manager: "I'm terribly sorry for the scene in the dining room. The server will be reprimanded accordingly. If you wish to return to your tables, I will be happy to offer 25% off the price of your meal."

DP3: "That's acceptable to me, but what about the maitre d' stuck behind that door? What is that room, anyway? Based on the dimensions of this building, it couldn't possibly be anything more than a closet. Could you please explain?"

Manager: "Of course, sir. I'll be contacting a locksmith to extricate the maitre d'."

DP3: "If he has a clot, or something, though, compromising nerves in his spine, that could be medically emergent. I'm a locksmith and have tools in the trunk of my car."

Maitre d': "You hear that, docs?! Both o' you might be wrong! Hahahahaha!"

[The manager frowns at the maitre d', despite the lack of visibility.]

DP2: "Get a load of this guy, doubting our theories?"

DP1: "It's not gonna work."

DP2: "What's not gonna work?"

DP1: "You believing that we're suddenly going to become buddies on the basis of discovering a common adversary."

DP2: "Are you a shrink, or something?"

DP1: "As a matter of fact I am. If you have a problem with that, I'd be happy to schedule a therapy session with you."

Manager: "Gentlemen, please? If everyone would like to return to their tables, the locksmith and I will do what we can to assist the maitre d'. Are there any other physicians among you?"

DP4: "Yes, sir. I'm both a cardio-thoracic and orthopedic surgeon."

Manager: [Slack-jawed] "Most impressive credentials, Madam."

DP1: "Wait a minute! Why did you ask about other physicians when you already knew that there were two of us on scene?"

Manager: "Have you been listening to yourselves?"

DP2: "He's right. We're like two 3rd graders in an ill-conceived, bladder evacuation oriented lavatory competition."

Manager: "Exactement!"

Locksmith / CEO: "I'll go get my tools."

Manager: "Thank you very much, sir. Your meal is on the house tonight, and I will gladly reimburse you for your time."

Locksmith: "Good deal! Thank you. I'll be back shortly."

[The locksmith arrives at the valet booth 90 seconds later.]

Valet: "Good evening, sir. May I see your restaurant and valet receipts, please?"

Locksmith: "Here's my valet receipt, but my meal is on the house."

Valet: "Is or was?"

Locksmith: "Is. I just need to get some tools from my trunk, so may I follow you to the parking lot? It's an emergency."

Valet: "What kind of emergency, sir?"

Locksmith: "The maitre d' is in the closet, and a psychiatrist inside the restaurant believes that he's paralyzed with fear."

Valet: "That's impossible, sir. We had a party for him years ago. Either way, how could that be an emergency?"

Locksmith: "There's no time to explain. The psychiatrist might be wrong, and he could be dying."

Valet: "Who might be dying? The psychiatrist or the maitre d'?"

Locksmith: "The maitre d'! Listen! He can't move his legs and nobody knows why yet, because he's locked in a closet! Now... run toward my car and I'll run behind you! He could very well have a clot pressing against his spine!"

Valet: "Oh, my God! Why didn't you say that from the beginning?!"

Locksmith: "Because I wasn't expecting you to misinterpret me that badly! GO! RUN!"

[A 3rd montage shows Ernest, Claudia, and Madison enjoying their Hors d'Oeuvres and champagne, and also chatting, smiling, laughing: thoroughly enjoying one another's company.
Suddenly, shouting is heard from the lobby, and several formerly disgruntled patrons return to learn what's causing all the commotion. The secret of the closet is a secret no longer.]
DP1: "He's got nothing to do in there except sit and watch us on the monitor!"
DP2: "I've waited in this lobby for at least 7 to 10 minutes every time I've come here... WITH a reservation!"
[The remainder of the dozen or so revived disgruntled patrons begin shouting simultaneously, amounting to incoherent yet formidable babble.
The manager pulls at his hair and then covers his eyes with his left hand, knowing with absolute certainty that the restaurant will be ruined by the socialites' party chatter.
He called an ambulance while the locksmith retrieved his tools. The maitre d' is taken to the hospital for a thorough examination, but his hysterical paraplegia resolved itself as soon as the paramedics wheeled him out of the restaurant on a gurney.
All of the regulars have walked out, refusing to pay anything based on an attorney's threat to file a class action suit. Time is money, and the maitre d' was indeed gouging with management sanction.
The manager, appearing gaunt with disheveled hair, returns to speak with Ernest, Claudia, and Madison.]
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