His total came to some dollar amount and 10 cents, and he gave me shit about the 10 cents, asking if I could just let it slide, because he hated having a pocketful of change. I suggested he could put it in the tip jar (a bit snidely, I admit), and he actually laughed and said, "A ninety cent tip for making me a salad?" I guess it was a rhetorical question.
I wanted to jump over the counter and knock him to the ground and kick in his face until it collapsed and his brains oozed all over the floor, and then take a shit in them, and shove it all back down his neck.
Then he wanted a smoothie, which he didn't like, and made me dump out and make him another one. Then I wanted a pack of wild dogs to come in and eat his entire body while he was still alive and screaming.
I hate making generalizations, but I have to say, the longer I work in service jobs, the more I'm convinced that 95% of all rich people really are just total dicks. Thank god I only have two days of this job left.
2 comments:
working as a waitress through college was very motivating in that I knew when I got out, I wouldn't have to do that again. food service shows you the worst side of people...
except for that old guy that used to come to at Buffy's diner in Saginaw Texas, for lunch every single day and always sat in my section and was very sweet and told me lots of stories and stayed and stayed all through the lunch rush and never ever tipped, until one day he said, "Stacy, don't forget to look under the plate, today." He left me a crisp, clean dollar bill which was a lot of cash to him, thinking about it, still makes me smile.
Look, I'm sorry, but that first smoothie was half-assed. I knew you could do better if I gave you a second chance.
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