SAUCE OF FRUSTRATION

WHAT is to become of the so- called millennials? I was at the Queens Beach ( QB) Hotel in Bowen one night this week and they had sausages and mash with onion gravy on the specials board. Banger heaven. A young waitress was doing the rounds of the tables and when I ordered I asked if I could have some “black sauce”.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Black sauce,” I repeated. She looked at me again, not comprehending. I decided to elaborate and said “Holbrooks Sauce. Could I have some Holbrook’s”.

Again, the same puzzled expression. Flummoxed, I gave up and accepted that black sauce was not going to happen. But, I have to say the bangers were outstanding even without the Holbrooks. It reminded me of the time I asked a young male assistant in Coles if there were any leeks.

He was stacking the vegetable display, so I assumed he’d know what I was talking about. He looked at me in much the same way as the girl at the QB when I asked for black sauce and then as he mentally digested what I’d said he asked, “Do you mean you want to go to the toilet?”

“No, I want to know if you have any leeks, the vegetable.”

He looked at me quizzically again for a few moments and asked gain, “You want to use the toilet?”

“No, I don’t want the bloody toilet, I want some bloody leeks”.

I didn’t get my leeks and I certainly didn’t want the toilet. I often wonder what became of that chap. Perhaps he’s farming leeks in Tasmania.