Was at Il Tartufo* in Manayunk the other night, waiting near the bar after dinner when a waiter - who was not my waiter - surprised me. "How'd you like the Fettuccine Cinghiale?" she asked.
I had liked it just fine, but was curious to know how she knew what I'd eaten. I hadn't seen her near my table all evening.
"I just saw the bill for your table," she replied. "Guys always get the wild boar pasta."
Part waiter and part analyst - new competition for us market researchers?