Nothing highlights the gulf between Aucklanders and Wellingtonians quite like this wee gem of a story…
Social distancing rules under Level 2 has limited the number of people that can get into cafes and restaurants.
For many people, that means having to wait outside for another patron to leave before they can get in for their favourite snack or caffeine fix – even if you’re the Prime Minister.
Jacinda Ardern was spotted waiting outside Olive Cafe on Cuba St on Saturday morning.
Speaking to Stuff, a manager from the cafe said the Prime Minister had showed up without a booking, and waited outside with some other customers.
“It was just a couple minutes, she was all good,” he said.
..it’s not like she’s Peter Jackson or someone important, the jaded Wellingtonian waiter would have muttered.
It highlights the difference between the two Cities because if Saint Jacinda had waltzed into an Auckland Cafe, and it was full due to the new social distancing rules, a thousand brave Auckland souls would leap to their feet and battle it out as to which son or daughter of the City of Sails would have the privilege of offering up their wobbly cafe table for the first Family!
Crumbs would be wiped aside, seats pulled out as First baby Neve, First Gentleman Clarke (with an e) Gayford, Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern and the Holy Ghost settled down for a quick Eggs Bene with free ranged bacon and a lukewarm flat white.
In Wellington, this was the negative-egalitarian grey genderless response from one Wellington ‘punter’…
A diner at the cafe said they and some friends had just been seated when they saw Ardern, fiance Clarke Gayford, some friends and a bodyguard arrived.
“But one of the workers had to awkwardly say it was full and there were no tables, and they left, and we were wondering if we should give them our table.
…’we were wondering if we should give them our table’. Charming.
The Prime Minister who has led us through the turmoil of terrorism, volcanism and almost bubonic plague would not have been left wondering in Auckland!!!
As one, every brave Aucklander would rise on their cafe tables and cry out, “O Captain my Captain”, and take endless selfies as they offered up their seat.
Now some may say that my pathological hatred for Wellington bureaucrats and all those who reside in or near those bureaucrats has twisted me into a sociopath full of naked malice towards Wellington, to which I say, sure.
PS – Fuck Wellington.
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