I don’t really enjoy fine dining.

Not because I can’t afford it, but because it’s too busy! Busy being taken care of.

The plate hasn’t even finished warming, replace it. The fork’s just been used, taken away. One sip of water from the glass, immediately refilled.

By the end of the meal, what I consumed wasn’t food, but a full ritual of upper-class dining.

I know where these rules come from. They’re inherited from aristocratic systems, clean, proper, attentive, hierarchically precise.

But the question is: do we still need this now? After the meal, I didn’t feel elevated. I just felt more interrupted.

The packaging is even more absurd.

In Japan, you buy a tiny cake 🍰, barely the size of your palm and it comes with an extra set of cutlery, multiple paper plates, and layers of packaging.

The reason is always the same: “Just in case you want to share it with friends.” That just in case decides all the waste on my behalf.

Water, labor, electricity, paper, all mobilized to perform one thing: how thoughtful we are, how complete our service is. But honestly, if I really wanted to share, I’d figure it out myself.

No plate? A napkin works. No knife? Break it in half. That’s what human brains are for — improvisation.

Not to be pre-installed with the assumption: “You can’t handle this. We’ll prepare everything for you.” This kind of excessive service isn’t care, it’s distrust.

Distrust in the customer’s judgment. Distrust in human spontaneity.

So we’re taken care of more and more thoroughly, and in return, we grow more and more incapable.



—— XC Scribbles · 伍拾肆 LIV 🍽️