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You ever been to one of those fancy business dinners? You know, the kind where they serve portions so small, you have to wonder if they're saving money or if the chef is just on a diet. I went to this one dinner, and they brought out this tiny plate with a piece of salmon that was so small, even Nemo's family couldn't find it. I was like, "Is this the appetizer or the garnish? Did I just pay $50 for a fish scale?"
And they always have these fancy names for the dishes, like "Pan-Seared Ahi Tuna with a Balsamic Reduction." I'm like, "Can I get that in English, please? I just want to know if it's fish or chicken."
I swear, the fancier the name, the hungrier I leave. They should just call it what it is: "Expensive Fish with Drizzle." At least then, I'd know what I'm signing up for.
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You know you're at a business dinner when the small talk starts flowing like a leaky faucet. It's a competition to see who can ask the most generic questions without actually learning anything about each other. "How's the weather in your city?" "Have you been on any vacations recently?" I'm just waiting for someone to break the ice with, "So, do you believe in aliens?" At least that would be interesting.
And then there's the inevitable moment when someone brings up work. It's like, "Congratulations, you've successfully killed the vibe. Now, let's all enjoy our dessert in awkward silence while contemplating our life choices.
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Business dinners are a lot like a game of musical chairs, but with more awkwardness. You walk into the restaurant, and suddenly it's like you're back in high school trying to figure out where to sit. There's always that one person who insists on sitting at the head of the table, acting like they're the CEO of the dinner. I'm just here for the free breadsticks; I don't need a power seat.
And don't get me started on the seating arrangements. They're like, "Oh, we put you next to Dave because you're both in marketing." Yeah, because all marketers want to do at dinner is discuss the latest SEO trends while I'm trying to enjoy my overpriced pasta.
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You ever get stuck at the end of a business dinner when the check comes? It's like a high-stakes poker game, but instead of chips, we're throwing in credit cards, and the winner gets the tax write-off. Everyone's doing that awkward dance of pretending to reach for their wallets, but secretly hoping someone else picks up the tab. It's like a financial game of chicken.
And there's always that one person who suggests splitting the bill evenly. I'm like, "Hold on, Brenda, I didn't order the lobster and three glasses of champagne. I had the salad and tap water. I'm not subsidizing your surf and turf feast.
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