The issue broadened when ash wrote to complain and of course the editor ignored her letter. No publish, no messy matter exists. In fact, the editor continued to decline printing anything ash wrote for some impressive period of time until she observed he was being rather censorial. It was the proverbial red cape; he ultimately invited her to the office to demonstrate his magnanimity.
Thus are these seemingly disparate letters connected by these circumstances. The former alludes to the editor’s self-imposed dilemma; the latter describes what happened to be on ash’s mind.
NO GUTS, NO GLORY INDEED
George Will doesn't read the State Journal-Register. Nor, presumably, does he see the clippings of letters I send him. Publishing letters critical of George Will's columns is neither bold nor admirable. Nor does it appease me.
But God forbid you should antagonize a local merchant, even an about-to-be-defunct one. You didn't know? The restaurant sold to a new owner, and I can't imagine why. It's in the 10/31 Marketplace, replete with two glaring errors.
I report an event, an "event" as categorized in the letter policy. Ah, but you have an out, a disclaimer. You can "reject any letter," for any reason, including the risk (read: loss of a potential advertiser) factor.
Print my #?! letter. Print it because the event occurred, because I was antagonized, because I was the customer, and - here comes your incentive - because a lot of readers will relate to my experience. Until then, lay off the July 4th freedom-of-speech accolades.
SLOT FILLERS
Many life cycles ago, when I was a waitress, I was trained how to treat customers. If the restaurant is busy and you can't take their order right away, at least give them menus. If the orders are backed up and taking longer than they should, at least acknowledge that fact. Don't ignore the customers and if there's a problem causing the delay - a new cook, a lost ticket, general incompetence - give them a simple explanation. Don't pretend everything's running smoothly as they wait and wonder how it is there's water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.
Why? Because they're the customers; you're the employee.
The management of The Sunrise Cafe on 9th Street is entitled to know that on Sunday, October 10 at 2:00 p.m. - not exactly rush hour - my party received deplorable service. After waiting over one half hour for three measly breakfasts that never arrived as our waitress feigned obliviousness, we walked out. "But Mom," my daughter exclaimed, "we haven't paid for our drinks!" "Honey," I responded, "the drinks are on the house."