Are you aware Big Brother is hovering over tables in restaurants? Latest technology allows for crystal clear imagery of what goes on.
The taped results are viewed by management after hours, and it’s easy to imagine some scenes having entertainment value.
“Oh, look, the diner is picking his nose, yugh, and carries on eating off his spare ribs”. Or, “I don’t believe it, that’s Mr Millionaire’s wife wrapping chips in a serviette and surreptitiously (she thinks) slipping it into her Louis Vuitton handbag”. Or, “There’s Pastor Hugo holding hands with his wife, saying grace. Trustworthy. At least they won’t slip out without paying”.
And undoubtedly many more clips that amuse, disgust and inspire.
Including scenes of me and my Heidi. I’m still cringing.
The incidents took place at a steakhouse. We had just shopped for a school outfit for our “adopted” son in the township, and for blood pressure and vitamin pills to keep us breathing. We entered with two parcels in my hands.
Alas, when arriving home, one parcel was missing. The clothes. No problem, probably left it in the restaurant. We phone and talk with the manager who checks our table. “Sorry, no parcel. But, we’ll study the cameras later”.
He duly phones back. The camera clearly sees us leaving with the two parcels in my hand. He invites us to a viewing. A feeling of dread comes over me, so I refuse. But Heidi insists on seeing for herself.
She comes back home frowning. Not only does the camera clearly depict me with the two parcels, but me scowling, showing fangs like Dracula, while fingering the shriveled tomato. Later I’m licking the steak knife clean with marinade snaking between the cleft of my double chin. First, I’m wiping it off with the back of the hand, then transferring the goo to my blue jeans. Next scene has me leaning over, giving Heidi a klapsoen, leaving a blob of marinade on her top lip. Pray the pastor’s eyes were still closed.
“That isn’t me,” I cry, “they’ve tampered with the tapes. Like Zuma’s spy tapes”.
Conclusion: I must’ve dropped the parcel on the way to the car. So, it was back to the clothing store, giving the cinematic eatery a wide berth - in case of outside cameras. I’m done with acting.