The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet Test

This was written last October, after a particularly forgettable buffet experience in Wolverhampton:


I cannot drive a car – yet. But I am learning – and I fully understand (and agree) that to let me out on the road in control of a car would be an unbelievably stupid and dangerous thing to do. Maybe not because my erratic inexperienced driving methods would kill anyone (venturing over 20 mph gives me the same adrenaline rush as sniping a particularly annoying American brat on Call of Duty 4 – i.e. I know it’s probably not what I should do, but boy do I love it…). But due to the fury and rage it would cause other drivers.

At the all-you-can-eat Chinese on Saturday evening, I was that hypothetical other driver, caught behind a moron who didn’t know what the hell to do. But the problem with these ‘learner buffet-abusers’, is that they have not been instructed how to get their idiotic brains into the correct gear, indicate which dish they are going to choose, check their blind spot for any potential hazards before pulling out. But I (quite rightly) have to pass a test before I can be unleashed on the roads. I believe some dickheads need to pass a ‘bleeding obvious’ test to be allowed within 2 square miles of the buffet cart.

Why are so many people like zombified sheep around a buffet?? The whole “well I’ll just wait here even though there’s a gap the size of a Saturn V rocket between me and the chips” attitude does not make a peaceful eating environment in my book. For a start, you shouldn’t be eating chips with Chinese food anyway. And secondly, if I wanted to queue I’d go to the sodding Post Office. But then again, I wouldn’t go to the Post Office to eat. Because they don’t serve food at the Post Office. And I’m hungry. So get out of my sodding way.

So, here are some points to consider if you happen to be a brain dead drongo who cannot apply common sense, the laws of physics or if you happen to be a ‘tutter’ when someone who KNOWS how to negotiate a tricky buffet obstacle course is getting pissed off with your ineptitude:

Point 1. The buffet itself is not where you actually eat the meal. It is usually cleverly positioned away from the tables. Most normal people like a nice chat over their evening meal – I do as well. The best way to ensure a decent chin wag is to sit AT your designated table. Therefore, do not be in the least bit surprised if your conversation about Great Auntie Mabel’s bowel condition is not met with the enthusiasm you’d like by other diners who are being HINDERED by your preference for bullshit conversation over seriously rapid food transfer. In short – damn well get on with it.

Point 2. I will presume you do not have a job. The ability to apply rational thought and quick, decisive hand movements are almost certainly – like you – redundant. If you do manage employment, I suggest working on a production line, because you simply won’t have the time to fanny about stroking the food before deciding whether to honour it with the prestigious place alongside your chips.

Correct method: Grab spatula, shovel food on top of rice/noodles. You may have to simultaneously think as you grab aforementioned spatula as to if you actually want that particular dish.

Incorrect method: fanny around for several minutes talking about shoes before minutely inspecting said dish. Look at it as intently as a racist jury would at a black man on trial in Alabama just to ensure it’s edible (tip: it’s a Chinese buffet. It’s more likely than not to be perfectly edible). Then - just to piss off normal, previously sane people - caress the erroneous dish with the spatula – check every piece of meat for sores, or moon rock, then repeat for any vegetables they may have dared to mix it with. Then, decide you don’t actually like crispy duck and leave spatula handle-down in the dish for the next person to use.

To summarise – the practise of shovelling an appropriate dish onto your plate is hardly rocket science. And if you don’t like crispy duck, don’t fondle the food for several millennia before deciding you remember that when you starting fondling the crispy duck, you didn’t actually LIKE crispy duck.

Point 3. It’s YOUR turn to exercise some patience. If I head to the rice counter first before tackling the main dishes, do not be annoyed at me. Unlike you ditherers, I know the correct order in the buffet. It’s rice/noodles first, creating a tasty bed on which to lay the main savoury ingredients. It also helps in soaking up the sauces. Do not tut at me, I know what I’m doing. YOU don’t – as is evident in your ignorant positioning of seaweed and chips. Because you don’t know it’s seaweed (that’s going straight in the bin – you probably thought it was dry lettuce – oh boy will you get a shock) and you think chips are a foreign delicacy. So don’t have a go at me for trying to demonstrate how those of us blessed with an IQ in 3 figures should negotiate a buffet queue.

I would like to add that although I am whole-heartedly in favour of a buffet test, there is no way I am willing to instruct buffet lessons. I would rather not mix with such people ever again. These people are responsible for me having to wait for an unnecessarily long time just to get the food I am craving. And one more point – if the greasy, fat scrubber who was in front of me on Saturday is reading (I understand the irony and indeed implausibility of that eventuality) – please do not pick your spots and rummage your dandruff-ridden hair next to the prawn crackers. It really doesn’t help the flavour, or indeed the desire to add prawn crackers to your plate. Not even with seaweed and chips.

I would like to thank Ben, Jen and their lovely friends for a tremendously successful evening on Saturday. If it wasn’t for you EXPERIENCED buffet goers (no buffet test necessary – some excellent examples of delegation going on as well I hasten to add – a strong feature), I might have lost it and ended up drowning small children in the chocolate fountain. Thank you all.