Day Twenty-Five

Happy New Year!

Let me tell you a story.

I was working at Alonso's last night, which isn't that bad because I never feel like going out and partying on the days when one is expected to do such things. It wasn't exactly a busy evening, and I was excited to get home earlier than usual to my lovely wife. She was watching 'Big Time' starring Tom Waits on This Network (Channel 45-2) on the local antenna television, and I love that man; saw him live in Nashville a few years back and almost shit my pants with awe.

My final table, however - a ten-top of people who must be related in some way to the McPoyles or some other kind of inbred assholes who haven't communicated with another not of their kin or even left their hole of a home since last New Years - obviously sensing my excitement, decided to torture me. There was a woman who sent me back to the kitchen FOUR times to get mayo, onions, decaf tea, and then pickles (for her already half eaten hamburger), and then the jerk who said, 'Oh, you have pickles? I'll have some'. So I got this jerk some pickles and assumed he fine until five minutes later, when the dick who demanded to have his own separate check because, 'All these people always order more food than me and I only want to pay for my food,' asked me for a dessert menu - 'And, by the way, I'm not going to order it, but how much is a coffee': WHY THE FUCK DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THEN? The jerk decided to throw in at this time, 'Oh yeah, and can I have some pickles when you bring out his dessert' with an ugly, Bush-voting smirk. When I asked him if I had forgotten his pickles, he said simply, 'No'. Ohhhhh, so you wanted MORE pickles then? Is that what it is? It certainly would not be too difficult to merely ASK the question rather than assume I know everything that rattles around in your empty brain, like the most annoying and stereotypical girlfriend ever! This was, of course, before the table proceeded to pass around a dirty Safeway bag full of broken cookies which they all stuffed into their mouths like mice and after they arrived for their reservation they made for 8 people and then seemed confused and put off when the hostess and I didn't realize that they had walked in with 10 people; they just stood around the table and stared at it, clearly attempting to WILL two fucking chairs into existence!

These are just a few examples of the torture I endured last night for the sake of my beloved employer. As this clusterfluck of humanity exited the restaurant, I realized I had not once yearned for a cigarette to help to ease my anger and disgust. Normally, in such situations, I storm outside and ravage a cigarette, walking back in lightheaded, a bit dizzy, and forcibly calmed. Yet last night, I had not even a glimmer of an urge to smoke. That is a fucking BREAKTHROUGH!