The journal of Paul M. Watson.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

A pint of SMS

Getting a beer down at the local today was almost as bad a nightmare as the game of Rugby playing out on the big-screen. Four waiters and just two barmen for four rooms of at least a 100 people each just doesn't work. Order anything more complicated than "1 pint love!" and you might get it by the start of the second-half.

As I sat with the need for alcoholic oblivion growing I fiddled with my cellphone, anything to avoid watching the spectacle on screen. It struck me then that a single SMS with my order to a handily displayed number in the pub would solve a lot of problems. Just include the table number, what you want and it could get slotted into the order queue without any problems.

Just a thought. And then I went home to drown my sorrows. Bloody Rugby. Bloody Aussies. Bloody barman.

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