>Omarosa (yes, THE Omarosa) was at TGIFridays on 5th Avenue. That place is quite possibly the worst dining experience one could ever have in NYC for lunch, and there she was at dinner time. She breezed in with a twenty-something man in a baseball cap. A couple of equally Caucasian people joined them a while later. As awful as she was / is, she deserves better than TGIFridays.
Why would I be at TGIFridays, you ask? Well, I had gone to celebrate my office move and imbibe in happy hour. As I told the bartender, the 5th Avenue TGIFriday is the worst lunch one could ever possibly ask for (he agreed), but their happy hour is unbeatable (he doubly agreed). Especially when the weather is nasty like it was today and the Rink Bar in Rockefeller Center is, therefore, not an option.
Their normally priced $8.00 margarita morphs into an affordable $2.75 looking glass into your coworkers’ lives. The motives for what the mail guy does becomes so very
clear when draft beer is only $2.00 and he quickly slugs down three before the clock strikes 7:00 and full price kicks in. Suddenly you know everything you never wanted to know about so-and-so, and, let me tell you, it ain’t pretty.
Omarosa talked on her cell phone the entire time. Her dinner partners all talked among themselves. She would, on occasion, distract herself from her phone to request something of the waitstaff, but never actually engage in what was really happening arround her. The exception was when she posed for a photo. It seemed like I had it all wrong: TGIFridays deserved better.
Talking on a cell phone at a dinner table — yes, even at the worst TGIFridays in the world (the food, not the service) — is abominable. Don’t do it. Ever. Love, Miss Manners.