I was recently out with my friends trying out this restaurant. The food was delivered and just as I was about to dive in, my friends collectively stopped my hand and unarmed me of my cutlery. Why? Not because they wanted to try my order. No, that I would understand because I am not Joey. They stopped it because they needed to take pictures of it so that 200 or so random people on their Instagram/Facebook could feel united with them.
As I was enduring this farce, I looked around and saw a pretty similar story unfolding on another table occupied by a couple. The guy there was snapping away at their food, while the girl had an exasperated look and was also looking around. If this were an Indian advertisement, our eyes would meet, we'd both be rid of our respective tables, sit in a new one, order another batch, eat and in the process, fall in love.
But this isn't an Indian advertisement, so instead of focusing on a love that could never be, why don't we address the real issue: what is up with people and snapping food photos to post on social media?
This would usually be a non-issue if said activity was simply a quick snap and Bon Appétit. However, with the amount of effort that most people exert on photographing their culinary treats, you'd be forgiven for thinking that they were contracted by the restaurant to take pictures to put on their menus.
"I have never put in that amount of effort!" stated Fazzad Inba Sated, a photographer by profession. "But then, when I see the result, I think to myself that my job is secure. So, pro tip, leave the work to us, and just enjoy your meal."
Stating that I was asked to write an article would, when questioning people for their reasonings, incite loads of 50-minute-long thought-out 'logical' responses, and we all know that's not the real story. The trick, as it turned out, was to ask them while they were in the middle of their disruptive act of taking everyone's plate and drinks and arranging them together.
"Look, the restaurant worked hard for these meals. If we don't do our due diligence in preserving them, we are essentially insulting this food," said Friend A. "No, you idiot, the restaurant preferred if we just ate our meals warm and drank our drinks cold," I thought to myself and moved to the culprit, I mean Friend, B.
"It's to capture the memory of our outing together. Who knows if or when we can meet again," remarked Friend B.
"That's sweet," I thought to myself, and started contemplating, but that feeling didn't last long when I saw this friend post it on Instagram with hashtags #eatyourheartout, #iambetterthanyou, and #livinthelife. I gave my friend a deadpan look, cursing myself for falling for that spiel.
I feel as though Friend C probably gave the silliest, and most satisfying response, "I am just documenting all the food that's going to kill me!"
Wonder how the sentiment is on the other side of the camp?
"I see table 4 has just been served but guess what? They are deep in photo session land, and after 30 minutes, they will call me in to complain about the food," lamented Sashiq (not his real name), a manager of an upmarket eatery in the 'Tristate' area. And sure enough, he was called to say the food deteriorated 'quickly.'
"Well, of course it did! They served you ice cream and it's a hot Dhaka summer. What would you expect after 15 minutes of picture-taking?" I thought to myself, and by the looks of it, the same thought crossed the manager's mind. But too bad, because a restaurant's policy is the customer is always right.
On that note, here's a fun idea to perhaps curb the "gotta snap what I eat" trend. Restaurants and eateries, maybe hang a sign that gives patrons a 5 per cent discount for not wasting half the mealtime badly photographing your food. And maybe an 8 per cent discount for not bringing out their smartphones at all! Imagine, going out with friends at an eatery and actually bonding over food.
What a novel idea!
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