TGIF, everyone! Hopefully you're all set out for a great weekend...I know I am.
Last night I had an unsettling experience.
Here it is in dialogue form:
Smelly-Haggy-Waitress-Lady: What can I get for you tonight, hun?
Good-Intentioned-Me: I'll just have a "Creamy caramel" Sundae.
Snap-Dragon-Like-Waitress-Lady: I'm not making Ice Cream tonight, I have the whole f****** floor; nope, no way.
flabbergasted-Me: Oh, ok.
Trying-To-help-His-Wife-Out-Ben: That's all she wants, though.
Cranky-Excuse-For-A-Waitress-Lady: Nope, sorry, not tonight. I can get you a dish of ice cream, but I ain't making no big ice cream production.
Shot-Down-Once-Again-Me: Ok. I'll have chocolate.
True, it was nearly midnight and the place (an un-named run down joint across the street from my alma mater high school) was hopping busy, but please? It was least expected, let alone a poor excuse of customer service.
We were there with little brother Brandon and his gf Megan; everyone but me ordered a full meal.
Turns out it took the Needs-To-Be-Fired-Waitress-Lady about 30 minutes to get the rest of the order out...
...Apparently she was the only cook in the f****** place, too.
Happy Weekend!
1 month ago
1 comment:
Bahaha! Oh gosh, I remember this night! That haggy old woman is Kelly, and according to Brandon she's high about 99% of the time when she works. We went there quite a few months ago and Brandon told her I was pregnant, so she started chanting and giving me a weird belly massage. I swear it was some type of voodoo.
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