
Melody couldn’t stop talking about a new restaurant she’d discovered. Not only did it have the best food, she said, the service was great and the prices were reasonable.
“You have to go. You’ll love it.”
As it turned out, Sue had a birthday coming up, so we decided to try Melody’s latest discovery. We learned that what she’d described as “romantic lighting” turned out to be just plain dark. Sue wanted to know if I had a flashlight on me so she could read the menu.
Melody called the service “unobtrusive,” which was true. Because it was nonexistent. Melody had told us not to miss the margaritas, but we did. Because apparently the chef had drunk them all. When the food we ordered finally came, it smelled kind of fishy. If only we had ordered fish and not steak.
Melody has done this to us before, but it seems that Sue and I are slow learners. More than once, she has recommended a movie that we “just have to see,” only to find out there was a reason we were the only ones in the theater. The last one she loved was such a bomb that it was banned by several international arms treaties. We kept thinking it had to get better the longer we watched, only to realize the opening credits were the highlight of the entire picture. And even they weren’t that good.
We have learned not to spend money on the books she recommends; we just get them from the library. Often we find that we are the first — and only — people to check out such a “fabulous” read. When we learn, long before the end of chapter one, that life on a Bulgarian alpaca farm is much like you would expect, then we go back to reading things we actually like.
I can only thank blind luck that we were already married by the time we met Melody. I can imagine the kind of wildly inappropriate dates she would have arranged for the two of us.
“Jim, she’s perfect for you: She’s high-maintenance, uses all the hot water taking bubble baths, and spends money like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Sue, you’ll love him: He spends most of his time at a biker bar when he’s not playing high-stakes poker with his friends from prison.”
Of course, it’s not just Melody. We have recommended restaurants to friends that they obviously didn’t like as much as we did. We got a note from one couple that said, “At least the hair in our soup added some much-needed flavor.”
We have tried to fix up our single friends, with mixed results. The mix is that sometimes our friends yell at me, and sometimes they yell at Sue.
“What were you thinking? We have nothing in common. He’s 30 years older than I am.”
“Age is just a number,” I said.
“Yeah, it is just a number. A big huge number.”
Face it, there’s just no way to make some people happy.
Worst of all is recommending a medical provider. If you like your doctor or your surgeon, please, keep it to yourself. Over the years, you might hear dozens of stories about the same back surgeon, who apparently changes people’s lives. The trouble is, some were for the better, others for worse. The GP you love, someone else will hate.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe people are talking about the same person.
“He checked my pulse and sent me a bill for $200!” says one friend.
“He saved my life for only $200!” says another.
Of course, I’m not talking about my doctor. He’s great. You should see him. Well, maybe not. His waiting room was pretty crowded last time I went there. And if he takes you on as a patient, that means he’ll have less time to spend with me.
Forget I mentioned it.
— Jim Mullen takes a wry, witty look at the curiosities of American life in his weekly column. Almost everything is fair game – from the price of a cup of coffee, to shopping at big-box stores, to the perplexing lifestyles of the rich and famous. Contact Jim Mullen at JimMullenBooks.com.
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