The Genesis of Our Pain

An Autumn wedding. What a wonderful thought. Perhaps a bite to eat before we go? But Babcock thought she’d just feed the cat before we went to meet Brown, her spouse to be."Hey PB, did you just…?"Yes I did just lock the door behind us.And Brown’s mobile phone was out of batteries. He had been to ninjutsu, and was likely to be having lunch at the Oxford. Luckily I had my phone."Hi, this is the Oxford.""Hi, I’m looking for a friend, he’s probably dressed all in black, and is with a bunch of other guys all in black. They’ve just come from training."Hmm, sorry, I can’t see anyone like that."How about a guy with a beard" Everyone knows only paedophiles and chinless freaks have beards these days. And Brown."Actually there’s a guy with a beard right in front of me buying a beer with a beard."Could you ask him if his name’s Ben?>"En?""Ben.""En?’"Ben.Muffled. "Hey is your name En?…"Ben"."Was it Ben or En"What the fuck do you think?"That’s him."Brown had just ordered a beer, so Babcock and I did Hug the Tree until he swung back on his motorbike with the keys. We all went back to the Oxford, on O’Connell street, where I bought "En" a beer for racing to our rescue.We ordered food, and beer. She forgot to charge us for the beer. We insisted. And noticed that despite having a touch-screen point of sale system, our dishevelled bar girl was more interested in discussing shift swaps with someone named after a flower than dragging a digit over the screen.The Oxford prides itself on its burger. Apparently this day it was priding itself on managing to serve five to our table before the two serves of calamari, estimated cooking time – 3 minutes.I wandered inside, noting the chef reclining with a winsome gaze against his grill."Excuse me, we’ve been waiting for awhile outside, I was just wondering when our calamari might come out?’’ I asked."It’s coming mate." Mate?"It’s just that we’ve been waiting a while and we have a wedding to go to.""Look dude, I’ve been busy."Don’t call me dude. B. Waitresses do not cook, and by the way, 12 customers on a lazy Saturday arvo is not busy. C. You fucked up, don’t give me grief about it.Seething with incredulity I seated myself back outside, hearing the welcome splash of Calamari in hot oil minutes later."Babcock, she called me dude.""Dude? DUDE?"It was now 2.40 pm. We had been waiting about an hour. I was now a dude, and we would have to force down our food in record time, race home and change, then race to the wedding. We were going to be late. I despise being late."Babcock?""Yes PB?""Shitlisted.""Okay baby, shitlisted."And so that afternoon, word did spread far and wide through the wedding guests, that the heretofore respectable Oxford Hotel had been shitlisted by the whymyfoodbad posse. The power of the disgruntled customer displayed in all its viral glory.The Oxford’s only hope. Redemption. Coming soon…