That’s the song the obnoxious person was singing at El Palmar about 15 minutes ago.
Even a regular margarita, chased by a banana margarita, did not lessen my annoyance for said person with the booming voice across the room. Not that I expect El Palmar to be a quiet haven, nor have I never not been on the receiving end of a public shushing, but where do we draw the line?
My friends and I have been shushed in such fine establishments as Round Table Pizza which was our first stop in a bar crawl for a bachelorette party about 10 years ago, starting the evening with pizza and pitchers — the funny thing is that the Round Table person said that “other customers were complaining,” and our group of 20-25 were the only people in the whole joint.
A couple years ago, my running club would meet up at the Howe Avenue La Bou before some of our Sunday runs. Our coach and I were having an especially spirited conversation one morning when a staff person told us that another customer was trying to study. Our coach, a venerable professor, laughed and asked if she’d ever heard of a library. The employee continued, “She’s a PAYING customer,” totally ignoring the mochas and baked goods in our hands (nevermind the fact that La Bou makes several breakfast and lunchtime deliveries to my office each week for various meetings.)
Growing up in a family of booming voices, I strive to use my “indoor voice” and then take it down a few more notches. This person (I dare not call her a “lady” because she was far from it, as my mom would say), was loud, boorish, and didn’t seem to have any inkling that there just might be other people in the same air space as she.
I had the fleeting thought of telling her that she ruined the celebratory dinner my husband and I were having for our first year wedding anniversary (which is tomorrow, and yes, we’re going somewhere more appropriate for our dinner) and that I found out that some recent medical tests came back with favorable results for me earlier today.
In actuality, we were amused — in a somewhat incredulous way — by this woman’s brash demeanor. Nothing we could have said would have changed her ways, and so it goes.
What’s your policy on being a shusher or shushee?
P.S. There was an older woman a few tables away who brought her own carton of sour cream to El Palmar.Â Can anyone shed any light on why someone might do this?