Half-Assed Gourmet: Hard to find good help?

On Mother's Day weekend, my family and I decided to be clever and go out the day before Mother's Day. You know, Saturday is the new Sunday and all that. Unfortunately, it was still Saturday, and the few decent restaurants in the vicinity of Cultureshark Tower fill up early. So at 5:00, my wife's first choice was already at an hour-and-15-minute wait, which would test our patience, let alone our toddler's, so off we went to Bonefish Grill.

(Incidentally, remember how we all used to make fun of our elders for hitting "early bird specials" at restaurants?" Not me anymore. We have to be out the door at 4:00 if we want to get right in to eat somewhere on a weekend.)

Bonefish isn't my wife's favorite restaurant--since she doesn't like seafood, it would have to give her free massages and pay off a credit card or two to get that status--but it is close to her first choice, and when you're all dressed up, that's a pretty big plus. I happen to love the place, partly because of the excellent service it offers.

Or did offer. You see, on this occasion, the place was packed, but we got in with no wait. Only problem was, we had to wait over an hour for our meals, culminating in me taking our daughter outside to run around in the parking lot (not the part people actually park in, but a blocked-off area on the side; I'm not that irresponsible). We had to get the grub "to go" because it took so long, but that's not even what puzzled me that night.

The puzzler was the server who came over to take our orders. I asked him if he could describe the special, a "Mixed Grill" of Longfin Rockefeller and grilled seafood. His eyes widened like Mantan Moreland in a zombie flick, and the poor guy stammered something about it being his first night alone on the floor, so he really couldn't describe the special.

The special, mind you! There was a sign in the lobby advertising this dish. It's not like I was looking for references and educational background of the specific fish. I have great sympathy for harried restaurant employees on a hectic evening, but this guy was either "not up to snuff," as Jack Nicholson described Dermot Mulroney in "About Schmidt," or someone running that place sent him out there unarmed. You got to at least tell your servers some basic info about the special. Don't you?

The other funny thing is, he didn't even offer to get someone who could describe the meal for me. What he did provide was an awkward silence, after which I said, "Uh, could you maybe find someone who could? I'm interested in getting it, but I really want to know what the deal is with it." Hey, I'm not the most articulate restaurant customer perhaps, but I gave him more info than he gave me.

To me, part of the restaurant experience is being able to rely on a learned opinion from the person who's gonna bring you the food. The first time I went to Bonefish, I was blown away by a server who gladly talked me through the different sauces they had, made some recommendations based on stuff I told her, and generally seemed to know what she was doing. Of course, that was on a weekday afternoon. Maybe I'm asking for too much on a busy weekend evening? Maybe we need to start hitting the restaurants at more reasonable hour for dinner...like, say, 11:00 A.M.