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Before securing myself in this geek job, I was a waiter for about two months. It didn't take long to realize I'm not a good waiter. What follows is the true story of my last day. There are no shitting tards, or maggot infested grandparents, but it's still a good time.

Hey Stupid!" That's how it all began. The ape who walked like a man, with his family of 5, stood up, pointed at me and used the above moniker to alert me of his needs.

I was 21 at the time, waiting tables to pay for college. I double majored in Math/Physics. I had recently been fired (on Christmas Eve) by a boss who routinely forgot my name. A month later, I was waiting tables at a crappy hillbilly restaurant with "Roadhouse" in the title. The jukebox was free, and sprogs under 15 seemed unable to play little other than Charlie Daniels "Devil Went Down to Georgia" and Tim McGraw's "Indian Outlaw." But I digress.

I approached the table and gave him my best "On my feet for 10 hours, but still trying to be nice" smile and said, "Hey man. What's the problem? I introduced myself. I'm wearing a name tag. My shirt has my name embroidered on the arm. I have the single most common name in the United States (Jim). Why would you do that?" I'm still trying to be good natured.

Shit-knot responds, "Whatever, I just wanted you to finally get over here. We're ready to order."

This condom cleaner had his docker clad ass in my booth (reserved for 12, but only 6 showed) tied up for over an hour before he graced us with his presence. Now, he'd been sitting not even 3 minutes, most of which had been occupied by my getting the drinks and returning. "I understand, buddy, I often address people by their most obvious physical characteristic." I took everyone else's order then smiled happily and said, "And what for you, Man with Hairy Wart on Big Fat Nose?"

I immediately had this deja-vu of the guy from "Dances With Wolves".

As soon as I dissappeared back into the kitchen to start his food down the line to his waiting cake-hole, he was up and looking for the manager. He came back into the line area (hot-prep), told me what a sorry shit I was, and that he was gonna get me fired. He pushed past me mumbling about something about no wonder how bad the service was, with all the "beaners and fuck-ups" in the kitchen.

Ernie, you have to believe I wanted to leave him alone. I wanted to make my $2.13/hr and my 10% and send him on his way. I wanted to just move on from the "Hey, stupid!" thing and be the better man. I wanted so much to not have to do what I did. However, there is an unwritten rule in the food service industry: don't encroach on their space.

Call the manager out, bitch, moan, sure, that's all well and good. But, don't, I repeat, don't, follow the waiter back out of the eyes of the rest of the customers.

Did I mention he ordered bbq ribs, and could I please *REMOVE THE FUCKING BONES*!!

Okay kids. I learned a lot that night.

I learned I can still pull off a world-class yank, and keep a straight face while serving his group for 2 hours (an hour beyond closing). I learned how much nasal phlegm can be hidden in a single cup of coffee.

I learned that if you scrape your fingers in front of the hot prep aisle, on the tile, you get this goo that's worse than the special sauce cats cook up to mark their territory. You can then stir this into chili, soup, sandwiches with sauce, etc.

I noticed pig fucking farmers don't notice dessert cart tread marks on their steaks.

I learned you can save a hell of a lot of effort by refilling a table's drinks using only the dirty glasses from other tables. I didn't get to see the "Final Product" but I'd heard a few drops of Visine (tm) placed in a beverage will give you the screaming shits, let us meditate on this wisdom.

I'm normally a nice guy. I tip 20-25% I try to be polite to tele-marketers. I hand out good candy on Halloween. I walk girls to their car, and stand up when the leave/come to the table.

I have pumped gas, and driven trucks, and mopped floors, and all I ask is that you don't go out of your way to make me feel like some shit encrusted pig-farmer who just told you ice is frozen water.

At about 2:00a.m. (We closed at Midnight), I was finishing up my sidework and getting ready to leave, when the manager came up to talk to me. He was really cool about it, and said that somebody had complained about me being rude. I gave him my side (minus the contamination of food), and he said that he'd given the guy a free meal pass, and that he was gonna be back tomorrow, and I should apologize.

I laughed, took off my apron, handed it to the boss and said, "When he comes in, tell him the stupid guy said, 'Why don't you find a nice warm spot, and go fuck yourself.' "

And so ended my career in waiting tables....

Eman

credit given to original author if known

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