PR maven Harriet Lessy thinks waitstaff ought to be required to know what's on their menus. Case in point: She recently dined out with friends whose granddaughter is dangerously allergic to nuts - especially peanuts.
"We were assured that there was nothing in the dish she ordered that was cooked with the offending legumes," says Harriet. But when the fish entree was delivered, "it had crushed peanuts as a garnish."
Ronnie Polaneczky: People who should know, should know
I ONCE BOOKED a carriage ride through Old City and was floored when my tour guide mentioned, with awe, that, during the Civil War, "about a thousand people died!"
The number was, um, actually closer to 600,000, including deaths in battle and by disease.
While her gaffe made me laugh, I can only imagine the black eye it gave to other tourists' impressions of the city - assuming that most knew enough about our country's bloodiest war to recognize a false fact when they heard it.
So I'm hep for the new legislation that, come fall, will require Philadelphia tour guides to pass a written exam covering the basics of Philly and/or American history.
In fact, I think we should look at other areas in which we, the vulnerable public, are entitled to facts, not fiction, from those we deal with as customers.
At the very least, we should expect a smattering of smarts.
Take taxi drivers. In London, their legendary knowledge of the city's labyrinthine streets has become London's pride.
In Philly, observes local writer Cathy Crimmins, many of our cabbies are "not only ignorant, but aggressively so."
"Last week, my friend and I took a cab to Morimoto, and I had the right block, and the guy had a GPS. But he refused to look up the address." Instead, she said, "he kept telling us how hard it was to be a cabbie."
Speaking of restaurants, PR maven Harriet Lessy thinks waitstaff ought to be required to know what's on their menus. Case in point: She recently dined out with friends whose granddaughter is dangerously allergic to nuts - especially peanuts.
"We were assured that there was nothing in the dish she ordered that was cooked with the offending legumes," says Harriet. But when the fish entree was delivered, "it had crushed peanuts as a garnish."
Maybe they were coated in epinephrine?
Daily News reader Sandy Hingston thinks doctors ought to get a "f***ing clue" about what their prescribed drugs and tests cost. Her son, who had a skin infection, was prescribed something called Bactroban Cream, a tiny tube of which cost $95.
"We used that tube for one day, then the doctor called and said the infection wasn't what he thought it was, so run out and get this antibiotic instead. Not even a 'Gee, sorry you spent that $95 for nothing' - and you know why? They don't know what a blood culture or a course of antibiotics or a round of physical therapy costs the consumer."
Sandy now makes it a point to ask the doctor, "How much is that?" just for the pleasure of watching him pause before saying, "I don't have any idea."
Granted, there's no guarantee that those who are licensed to know things will be competent on the job.
John Scorsone, a real-estate developer, groans when he has to deal with a certain realty agent in town who, he swears, is so ignorant of the basics of her profession, she thought that the practice of escrow was illegal until he advised her otherwise.
Then, of course, there's the frustration of dealing with those who are just plain old liars.
"Perhaps truth, accuracy, and honesty are too much to ask of our politicians," moans Brett Mandel, head of Philadelphia Forward. "But surely it is not too much to ask of those who manage our sports franchises.
"Anyone who suggests that the Eagles do not need an upgrade at wide receiver or the Phillies do not need to improve the starting rotation should be forced to replace the horses dragging those carriages through Old City until they realize that Philly sports fans understand how to spot 'manure' when they see it."
And then there are those who dispense lies not for profit, or from ignorance, but for fun.
Like Mike Bosaczyk, a salesman who once tended bar at a tourist-choked bar downtown.
"These tourists were different from those who would actually get out and experience the city's history first hand. These folks would first inquire what beer was on tap and then ask a series of questions about the city."
It's like they were compiling conventioneer's crib notes, he says, so that "upon their return to Des Moines they could share fun facts with their wives, thus concealing the fact they spent their entire time in Philadelphia in a bar."
Bosaczyk and his buddies prided themselves on the historic disinformation they gleefully dispensed. Thanks to them, visitors went home thinking that:
* William Penn discovered oatmeal; hence, his picture is displayed on Quaker Oats boxes.
* The hoagie was named after a famous, 1940s piano player.
* The world's first recorded hickey took place in Juniata.
* And (my favorite) Scrapple was an aphrodisiac.
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