Lunch today was supposed to be at Eata Pita in the basement of Grand Central Station. I was there early, there was no line.
"I’d like some hummus and a whole wheat pita, please. With hot sauce and some lettuce if you can. Thanks."
The guy just looked at me.
No surprise. I mean, it’s like Grand Central Station in there sometimes. He couldn’t hear me.
So, I repeated myself. He smiled, scooped up some hummus, added some lettuce and started to close up the container.
"Could I have some hot sauce, please?… and a whole wheat pita?"
He hadn’t been listening.
He smiled and put the hot sauce on the hummus, sealed it up and gave it to the cashier, and then walked away. He obviously heard my repeated request for a whole wheat pita, but didn’t take action.
The cashier looked at me with the universal, "I was standing here but didn’t listen or hear and have no idea what you just ordered" expression. "A hummus with whole wheat pita," I said, helpfully.
She rang me up. No pita.
"Can I have a whole wheat pita please?"
She turned around, grabbed a wrapped pita from the top shelf, smiled, and put it in the bag. I went to the train. Opened my lunch as we pulled away. Not a whole wheat pita. A poisoned white bread pita, food of the oppressors!
The folks at Eata Pita don’t get the Hearing, Listening, Action scenario.
You get it, it’s obvious. So why don’t they?