Today I worked from 10:00-4:00 at a restaurant where I love the food and the staff, but sometimes grow weary of fielding such questions as, "If I pay with cash, can I get change back?" and "What kind of dressing comes on your Caesar Salad?"
The answers to these questions, by the way, are:
1) No. Any cash that hits that table is subsequently lost to you forever. In fact, if you handed me a credit card, you wouldn't get that back either.
2) Orange Chipotle.
Seriously though, questions like that often catch me so off guard that I begin to question reality and everything I know. My actual answers to these questions were:
1) "Yes. Of course. Wait... what?"
2) "... um... I... Caesar dressing?"
One of the things I'm best known for among my coworkers is my uncanny ability to tell tableside jokes that fail spectacularly.
Exhibit A:
Guest: I'll have a Black Russian. On the dark side, please.
Me: (Returning with drink.) Here's your Black Russian, sir. (Winking.) Darth Vader style.
Guest: (Winces, then looks down at placemat.)
Exhibit B:
Me: (Reading back order to table.) Okay, I'll be right back with an Absolut Cosmo, a glass of Malbec, a ginger ale and a Beefeater Martini up with olives.
Guest 1: And don't forget my side of ice.
Me: Oh, don't worry sir, I wouldn't dream of it.
(Pause.)
Me: Well, I might dream of it, but I would wake up screaming.
(Guest 2, Guest 3 and Guest 4 look startled. Guest 1 slides an inch away in his seat.)
This all relates to a theory I've developed: The only way to be sure you're really living is to embarrass yourself at least once a day.
3 comments:
I will from now on order my drinks Drath Vader style and wait for the awesomeness to dawn upon the unsuspecting bartender
oh my god i love you
darth vader style it is from now on. i just realized how much i utterly miss you. this is genius.
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