Before I begin this post, let me just start by explaining that the reason I’m not posting up here after I said I would is because the band I was in received a couple of extra opportunities to record and play shows around my home state. Things will wrap up by next week and I’ll be writing more regularly.

That said, let’s do this.

I was waiting tables this one night and as I passed a table in the middle of the restaurant, a woman had a half-full glass of Coke.

A little backstory: We got these new 24- or 28-ounce cups. I can never remember which. Regardless, half of a glass of Coke is still a hell of a lot of Coke.

So as I pass the table, Cruella deVille gives me this snide little look and says “Waiter, come over here a moment.”

Let me tell you three things the bitch got wrong with those six words:

1. Don’t call me “waiter”. Say something like “excuse me” or “sir” or “mister”. Calling me “waiter” is on par with calling you “stuck-up fat bitch”; while you may be one, it irks you when someone calls you that to your face.

2. You didn’t say “please”. Go fuck yourself.

3. You called it a “moment”. Not a “second” or a “minute”. A “moment”. Refer to Number 2’s “Go fuck yourself”.

So I go over to the woman with my best shit-eating grin and ask:

Me: “Is there something I can do for you?”
Her: “Yes. This half-full glass of Coke looks odd, wouldn’t you say?”
Me: “Not…uh…really?”
Her: “It doesn’t?”
Me: “Looks like a healthy glass of Coke, ma’am.”
Her: “You haven’t been serving very long, have you?”
Me: “…”
Her: “Can you fetch me another Coke?”
Me: “Do I get a treat afterwards?”
Her: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Do I get a treat afterwards?”
Her: “Excuse me?”
Me: “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

I got her the drink. Diet Coke, though. Like I said, she was a stuck-up fat bitch.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 15th, 2007 at 3:23 and is filed under Stuck Up Yuppies. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.