Fine Diners

Today I had the delicious experience of being told I had a fucked up attitude by a customer who was just too plain stupid to order correctly. First of all, he was trying to get me to take his order at a register which had no money in it, and kept interrupting my polite “will this be for here or to go?” with “UMM YEAH I WANT…”. I mean, obviously “Yeah I want” is not a response to an either or question, plus I do have to punch in that little button before we can run your order. And trust me, I possess the disposition of Mary fucking Poppins, I mean, I was perfectly nice to the man. When he realized I had asked him a question, he stopped and said “oh, this is for here, are you ready for me now?” I replied “yup.” with my winning smile.  This would be the point when the man stormed out of the restaurant claiming he would call the owners and ruin my life. Sure, I mean, I happen to be starting a magazine internship upon my return to the Big Apple, and have just been asked to host several charity fundraisers… you can try and ruin my life by calling in a pointless complaint to the people who just told my unique and positive attitude was a breathe of fresh air from some of their current employees.

Later in the day, I got some of those people who had a thousand and one instructions for the preparation of their fast food order. I mean, sure, have it your way all you want, pickles, no onions, whatever, but come on- extra toasted buns with moist meat and cheese that isn’t too melted? The customers were a loud and obnoxious pair who claimed “we just like the finer things” as a reason for their fast food snobbery. This coming from people with extra body hair spilling out of their clothing matched with the fine perfume of what I’d imagine burnt crude oil to smell like. Again, I know that I’m stuck in this job  for just under three more months, but that doesn’t mean my standards have slipped by any means, and if you’re claiming to enjoy the finer things in life, maybe you should set some actual standards for yourself. You’re talking to someone who has managed to flirt his way into a $2,000 dinner at Caravaggio and has, on more than one occasion weaseled his way into brunch at Norma’s at Le Parker Meridian without the requisite reservation. No, I’m not drop dead gorgeous or anything, I just have a way with people. Besides, when was the last time you were walking down 58th street when the President of Time Warner Travel stopped to tell you you had a nice ass? Exactly… and that ended with oysters, salmon, dessert and wine at The Monkey Bar.