“Per-fect,” said the server, picking up the plate, and going off with it, leaving me agape at the table. “I think this needs to be heated up,” I said, indicating the plate.
In a restaurant one day, a server came by and asked if everything was okay. I wondered if the people automatically saying this word even realised they were using it. Then I waited for the second to inevitably land, in the form of those two syllables. To initiate any transactional conversation was to drop one metaphorical shoe. I would wait for it to arrive in the conversation, as it always did. Was it the perfect choice on the menu? It was hardly me who was perfect, and let’s be honest, the events of the last 18 months have been anything but perfect, so what did they mean?Īs the “per-fects” started hopping like eager, determined aural fleas all over the country, it began to drive me a little nuts. I wondered was the server complimenting me on my inspired choice of americano, or salad, or whatever I was ordering. The first few times this default sign-off response seemed to occur mainly in restaurants. Me: 'I'm trying to find X.' Assistant: 'Is this what you're looking for?' Me: 'Yes, that's it. Me: 'I'd like to book for X date.' Person at reception confirming date: 'Per-fect.' Or when booking accommodation over the phone, or some rare beauty treatment to attempt to tame my untamable feral ways:
