One of the many pratfalls of a Midtown working situation is the proximity to one of the only two Olive Garden locations in Manhattan (the other is in the far less bowel-concentrated Chelsea area). It is here that not only will people complain about their tips/wages, but also a place where the stereotypical Midwesterner/Long Islander will flock for “gourmet cuisine.”
While you attempt to wade through the riffraff making its way into the “Italian” restaurant as you try to go to cheaper 8th and 9th avenues for something to sustain you, you will inevitably be bombarded by a fat roll or a phrase of stupidity that will help to further ruin your day. Maybe “when you’re here, you’re family” for some, though I feel it’s more like, “when you’re here, you’re grotesque.”