You walk into a French restaurant, excited for the experience, when you’re greeted with impeccable, almost intimidating service. The waiter, with perfect posture, hands you the menu as if it were a sacred scroll, and when you order, he nods solemnly and walks away like he’s just accepted a royal decree. Every time you make eye contact, he’s there, silently ready to serve. When your food arrives, it’s artfully placed on the plate, but you’re not sure if you’re supposed to eat it or just admire it. You try to be polite, but the pressure is real. Final scene: you leave the restaurant feeling like you just attended a gourmet dinner at the palace and wondering if you’ve been judged on your eating skills the entire time.
