We were standing, waiting to be served, at the front counter of a beautiful colonial-style café. The glass shelves beneath the benchtop were filled with the most tempting assortment of pastries and cakes you could ever imagine. It was a sugar explosion, full of diabetes-inducing delights. On top of that, the building itself was stunning. It was a historic stone edifice with its rustic old stonework for the interior walls. It oozed ambiance. The mudbrick pizza oven in one corner warmed the entire ground floor, and tables and chairs were generously spread out allowing for easy walking and private conversations. Perfect.
We just needed to order.
There were a number of staff, but they were clearly busy. Young women (‘they look too young to be legally working’ I heard one patron say) were darting between tables, removing items no longer needed, or delivering fresh food and drinks. Others were stocking the display shelves, replacing items that were running low. Finally, one saw us and came over.
‘What would you like?’ she asked.
I looked over to Ken and nodded a wordless ‘You go first’.
‘I’d really like some eggs on toast I think, and a long black, thanks.’
‘We can’t do eggs on toast sorry.’ She had an expression of genuine regret that Ken was missing out on his first choice.
‘Oh… okay… then do you have any kind of egg meal?’
‘Let me give you the menu,’ she said with determination.
A large double-sided laminated document the size of the American Declaration of Independence was placed down on the counter under Ken’s gaze. On one side it said ‘Breakfast’ and on the other side ‘Lunch’. It was placed ‘Lunch’ up, and the lady highlighted one item with her index finger. ‘That has eggs,’ she said.
Ken started reading. ‘The Big Lunch: two eggs on sour dough, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon, baked beans, and hot chips. $24.’
‘I don’t think I could eat that much,’ he noted. I think he was being kind to me since it was my shout. ‘What about just two eggs on toast?’
‘Unfortunately no, like I mentioned, we can’t do that.’
Ken is a very polite bloke, and would never insult a waiter. Especially a young lady about the age of my granddaughter, who was clearly trying hard to help us. But he did wonder why he was shown a big egg meal, but there was no option for a ‘small’ egg meal. He turned the menu over to read the breakfast options. There he found ‘Two poached eggs on sour dough toast, $13.’
Like a gold panner who just found a valuable nugget, he exclaimed, ‘Oh look, you do have it. Here it is here.’
‘Yeah, no. That’s the breakfast menu unfortunately.’
‘Is that a problem?’ he asked.
‘I’m afraid so: the breakfast menu stops at 11.00 am.’
We spontaneously looked at our phones. We had lost track of the time since going to the tip, but we were there for brunch. Was it past 11.00 already?
11.09.
‘No exceptions? It’s pretty close?’
‘No, sorry.’ She looked pained.
Turning the page back over, Ken looked over the lunch menu once more. ‘Okay then, I’ll have one of these please.’ He pointed to a Chicken Focaccia.
‘I’m sorry, we can’t do the lunch menu.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The lunch menu doesn’t start until 11.45.’
I had not spoken up to that point, but that last comment did make me smile. I added my thoughts. ‘Sooo – we can’t order from the breakfast menu because it’s after 11, but we can’t order from the lunch menu because it’s not 11.45 yet?’
‘That’s right,’ said the young lady, seemingly happy that at least one of the two old blokes before her had finally understood the rules.
‘So what can we get in this 45 minute window?’ There was an awkward pause for a couple of seconds.
I broke the silence. ‘Are we limited to what’s on display here, beneath the counter?’
‘Pretty well that’s it, yes. We can get you drinks of course.’
We both ordered pre-made egg and bacon burgers and hot drinks.
As we sat at our table far enough away from the staff so that they could not hear us, we both laughed out loud. Ken reflected that he felt he had just been a part of a Monty Python skit. I said it made me think of Catch 22.
The question that was burning in both our minds was obvious.
‘Why on earth did she give us the menu?’