Friday for dinner my wife and I headed over to Atomic Rooster (303 Bank Street, Ottawa). We arrived at 4:15 P.M. to a place recommended more for a weekend breakfast spot by one of my former reliable coworkers.
We stood in the front door not knowing whether to seat ourselves or to wait for someone to show us to a table. There seemed to be two waitresses chatting on the left side of the restaurant. Meanwhile a bar tender slinging drinks on the right to about 10 patrons at the bar. Ironically it was the bartender who politely raised her voice and said to sit anywhere we want while the two waitresses continued to chat.
We chose a table in the front window and sat down. We chatted for 10 minutes while periodically looking over to see if anyone noticed our existence. The two waitresses eventually stopped chatting as one headed to the kitchen and disappeared. The other started walking across to the bar to perhaps get menus? Nope, no hope there as she just merely continued her gabbing with a new victim....THE BARTENDER!
We waited until 4:30 P.M. and left. No one even acknowledged our existence except for the initial yell across the restaurant by the bartender. The two waitresses were more interested in chatting to each other and their coworkers than serving customers. The only person in the entire place with 20 patrons in attendance doing any resemblance of work was the bartender.
We left Atomic Rooster with a sense that the only thing "Atomic" in there was the nuclear meltdown of service.
Historicist: Lawren Harris Transcends
1 hour ago