Hi friends, today continues our earth-shattering series on people who annoy me as I go about my job. I do the dirty work of writing a bunch of words in a particular order so you don’t have to. It’s my small contribution to the tapestry of the human experience. Also, I like making fun of people, so there’s that.
If you’re seeing this without the benefit of having read Part 1 and Part 2, click on the links and go read them. This isn’t a Choose Your Own Adventure book, alright? Although that would be kind of cool. Click here if you think I should write a Choose Your Own Adventure blog. Click here if you think I should stick to writing the nonsense I already write.
Restaurant Patron 3. Mr. and Mrs. “Confused By Life” (and Family)
We get a lot of tourists from other countries in DC. Especially from poorer countries around the world, for some reason. Lots of “yearning to breathe free” or some shit that was put on the Statue of Liberty but clearly not linked to its meaning.
But the powers of deductive reason tell me that when a family of 12 from a very poor country travels via jet aeroplane to the US, stays in hotels, eats at restaurants, and wears fashionable attire, they’re probably rich. That family is likely in the top 1% of wealthiest people in their country. Whoever the Bernie Sanders is in their country is railing against them as we speak while the DNC of that country screws him over.
I’m painting with a broad brush, I know. It’s way easier and faster than painting with a narrow brush, and I’m busy. I’m an important, busy man with priorities and stuff.
If you are in the top 1% in your country, you’ve probably been to a restaurant before. You’ve been to thousands of them. You go on vacations every year. They certainly have a Sbarro or something at the Fukkistan mall where you bought your ten kids matching Tommy Hilfiger polo shirts. You have not entered a whole new world when you walk through my doors.
With these realities in mind, you can see why I’m amazed at the lack of understanding of the complex topic of “how restaurants work.”
Cutting in line. Mobbing the line.”¹ Ordering as if they’re only ordering one meal, getting to the cashier during PMT, only to say, “okay, now I need to order more for everyone else” as the line has built behind them. Coming back to the register 14 times for random things. Collectively chiming in with one another on each person’s order, making it ridiculously confusing for the person making the food.
New rule: if you can afford to come to the United States, we (liberals, educated people who appreciate other cultures, souvenir salesmen) welcome you with open arms. We are a salad bowl of different cultures, languages, and norms, all mixed together with a tangy dressing of FREEDOM! That’s our country’s second favorite dressing, right behind Ranch.
Welcome to our country! Now, understand that we’re all in a BIG hurry all the time, and just look around and try to blend in a bit. If we’re all standing in line, stand in line. If we’re all throwing our own trash away, throw your own trash away. If we’re all running frantically away from a 20-story-tall Robot Godzilla, run in the same direction as us. It’s not that your way is incorrect, our systems are just built on doing it our way.
Done correctly, you’ll avoid getting targeted as an easy mark by one of our numerous criminals, AND you’ll have a better time on your vacation! It’s a win-win. Or a Nguyen-Nguyen, in some of these cases.
Restaurant Patron 4. Ms. “Playing Dumb To Get Something Extra”
We have a few customers who come in every single week, but each time, they act as if they’ve never been here. Some of them act as though they’ve never seen food before.
LADY: [WEARING AN UNIVERSITY OF IDAHO T-SHIRT] Hmm, that looks delicious! What is that, is that some new, trendy vegetable?
US: No ma’am, those are potatoes. You had them last time, too.
LADY: I did? I don’t remember that. Oh, well they look awesome. Can I have some?
US: Of course! [SCOOPING POTATOES INTO BOWL]
LADY: [COYLY] Think I could have an extra scoop? [BATS EYES AT US]
Listen, if you want extra of just about anything, we’ll give it to you. You don’t need to debase yourself and act as though you’ve never seen a potato, Madame Vandal.
Same goes for sauces. You don’t honestly need to taste each sauce to make your decision, especially when you did the same thing last Tuesday. We’re not locking you in on a 30-year fixed rate mortgage here. You’re picking which sauce you want on your chicken. Even if you are TOTALLY wrong, the worst outcome is that you’ll know better for next time. We don’t secretly mix ipecac into one of them and sit back and wait for the fun. Namely because we’d have to clean it up, and that’s gross and we’re busy. But the point is, you’re safe with whichever sauce you choose.
Oh, and here’s an industry secret: the three sauce options are basically the same sauce with just a few different spices in them. At all restaurants, not just mine. We all collude on this. We have a secret handshake and code words and stuff. Just pick one, or ask us which is our favorite. We care about you, and we’ll lie to get you through the line faster.
That’s it for today, I’ll be back tomorrow with one last installment of this groundbreaking series. *checks mailbox for Pulitzer Prize, finds instead a cease and desist letter from Pulitzer Prize committee for using their name just now.
¹ Think of that one restaurant that gave everyone E. Coli a while back. I’m not naming names, but it’s the one where their paper cups try to give you a morality lesson while the minimum wage earners chop up various cuts of animals for you to eat. Now, imagine 12 people abreast all just approached the glass instead of going one by one. That’s what I mean by “mobbing.” Kind of throws everything off.