There is so much to do at work. got to make this a quick lunch. Oh well, lunch with Sheila can hardly be quick, but I need to see her. Stress relief. Who else but her for mom-in-law advice? Sigh. Maybe it's pointless. That woman's ageing, and she's never going to let him go... grrr! But Sheila's is much worse. I'm feeling better already, imagining what tales she's going to have. I'm a bit late. Hope she's there already.

At Sound Of Thunder, that is, a popular multi-cuisine restaurant in one of the city's slickest shopping centres. Rita had picked the restaurant, aware of Sheila's liking for the sheer variety of its salads. The joint had caused quite a stir when it had first opened. It was colourful, boisterous-with just the 'in' kind of music-and the young high-fiving waiters didn't even wear uniforms. Sound of Thunder's décor theme, upbeat USA, had been a roaring hit. The tablemats were witty, with notes on New Orleans' jazz scene and Woodstock weed. Like the dishes, the cocktails had such far-out names as 'Veggy's Farm No More' and 'Do you, Mr Jones?'

It was a cool yuppie hangout. Which was precisely what the management had in mind. The strategy had been worked out to the finest detail, going even into the psychographic profile of the prospective customer. By Sound Of Thunder's plan, the business idea involved expanding the set of those who got the hang of this ultracool culture, and building 'interactive loyalty', a task entrusted to a staff put through a special 'interaction module' to train them in polite banter and other techniques to engage customer interest and elicit information on food and music tastes.

To Rita, though, the restaurant had just the right crowd and ambient noise to have a meaningful heart-to-heart with her closest friend without the fear of being overheard. She swung the door and entered Sound of Thunder-but only to have a rotund 20-something waiter bounce straight into her sight, "Hi! How are you today? And my, don't you look wonderful."

Huh? Rita glanced down at her boring everyday workwear in bewilderment, and chose to ignore the remark, "Umm.. I'm looking for a friend."

"Maybe I can help. There's a lady waiting for someone at the far right table..."

"Oh yes, that's her, thank you."

"No probs. Shall I escort you to your table?"

Do I have a choice? "Sure".

"So what's it like out there today? Any clouds? Purple rain? Crying doves?"

Oh please-knock it off, will you? "No."

"Here we go, your table."

"Hi Sheila! Sorry I'm late."

"Hi-ee! That's okay. What happened?" And so, Rita was finally face to face with Sheila.

"Never mind. You're not going to believe my life right now..." started Rita, and then paused abruptly, turning to the waiter-with her nicest 'please, may we?' look-who was still there, looking on with a bemused grin. "So guys," he went, cheerily, capitalising on the pause to break in to the conversation, "let me introduce myself. My name is Rajesh and I am your host for today."

This is sooo unnecessary, and we're not 'guys'.

"What would you like to start with? Maybe some Diet Coke while you go through the music checklist?" he went on.

Diet Coke-some nerve!

"Do we look like we need it?" asked Sheila, crisply.

Yeah, you tell him. You've got the stern voice.

"That's a good one," Rajesh chortled.

"Get me an iced tea and a Caesar salad," said Sheila, with a frown, "And you, Rita?"

Something light, I guess. "I'll have the same."

"So you're both dieting. No probs. Got it covered. I'll tell the chef to be careful with the dressing. Now, would you two like your iced tea without sugar?"

How can he make such a personal comment? This was it. This was IT.

"No!" chorused the women.

Finally, done... he's going. Good. Rita turned back to Sheila, "You won't believe what's been going on."

"Out with it. Mom-in-law again?"

"I'm sick of it. The other day we had this dinner at our house-"

"Here you go. Two iced teas." Rajesh again: "It's really one of our specialties, you know. The most refreshing iced tea around." The women glared. "Enjoy!" he exclaimed, oblivious as ever.

"So where was I?"

"The dinner."

"Yeah, and she invited her boss and his wife... can you believe it? And it was like I had to match up to their talk ... like I was on test for some job or something."

By some coincidence, Pink Floyd's 'Mother' came on, rather loud. Rita stopped to listen.

It's the same story everywhere... isn't it?

"The Bluish Mother Syndrome," joked Sheila. Rita let out a laugh. The music wasn't really an interruption, they both knew. And besides, they wanted it loud-to guard their privacy.

Privacy? What privacy? Why's HE still standing there like that? Shoo! Oh no, I shouldn't look. Then he'll be right here. But he keeps smiling. Am I supposed to smile back? How can someone keep smiling for so long? This is ridiculous.

Rita leant forward and whispered, "Sheila, is it just me or..."

"Yeah, getting the creeps. I've been cold shouldering him even before you came. Took him ten minutes to realise I was waiting for a table. He was busy chatting up the two girls over there."

"Well anyway, the dinner, guess what happened when I told Kabir about it. He just wouldn't-"

Oh no, not again! Rajesh appeared with the salads: "Enjoy your meal," he beamed.

Oh fine, NOW what does he want?

"Is everything alright?" Rajesh asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" asked Rita, as Sheila rolled her eyeballs up.

"I mean, is the food to your satisfaction?" he explained.

"I've only taken one bite, but yes I think it is, thank you," said Rita, baring her teeth in a pseudo-smile.

"My pleasure," said Rajesh, and moved back a few paces. And stood there.

Why doesn't he get the message, dammit?

They both waited a few moments to see what he did next, but there was no escape.

"This is crazy. Let's gobble this stuff and go next door for coffee or something," said Rita, exasperated, "or maybe we can pack the salads and get out of here."

The two left. In a huff.

The question: what should Sound of Thunder do to satisfy customers?

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