How are you? I hope that you and Mrs. Claus are doing well. When we last spoke, you mentioned that you were having some gastritis. How’s that going? Did you cut down on your drinking yet? Maybe you should stop adding Maker’s Mark to every glass of milk you see. You might want to cut down on the cookies too. Sure it’s adorable that your belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly every time you laugh, but c’mon, Santa, you’re too fat. Please tell Mrs. Claus I said hello and that I hope her osteoporosis is improving. Hey, here’s an idea: maybe you should just skip the milk all together and let her drink it. I think she he needs the calcium because the last time I saw her, she was pretty hunched over.
Anyhoo, I have been a very good waiter this year and I expect to see some major presents because of my phenomenal attitude over the last 12 months. Basically, I kicked some restaurant ass and all I want is what’s coming to me. All I want is my fair share. Please see the list below of all the gifts I have earned this year. I do expect all of these because I am still pissed off about you running over my Grandma with your drunk-ass reindeer a few years ago. I never called the cops but there is no statute of limitations for a crime like that. And if you don’t mind, can you just Fed Ex them? I don’t need you to be sneaking into my apartment while I’m sleeping. Honestly, it’s a little bit creepy.
- A new apron. The one you got me last year sucked. It was a cotton/linen weave and after I washed it two or three times it was all stretched out like a Teen Mom’s va-jay-jay. It was barely big enough to hold my check presenters and I hated the color. Don’t over think it, Santa. Just a simple black polyester apron that you can get at any restaurant supply store. Please don’t have one of your elves make it again. Yeah, I know Lil’ Magic Bit “made it with love” but please try again.
- New pens. Please don’t get me that crappy pack of 20 pens that come from the 99₵ Store. They glob up when I write and every other one of them leaked in my apron. (And since it was cotton/linen it was impossible to get the stains out!) I’m not asking for fancy pens. Just a pack of Bics or some other name brand. Black or blue only.
- New slip-resistant shoes. I loved the ones you got me last year. Wherever they came from, just duplicate them. Can you get me some extra shoelaces though? After a couple of months, they get all greasy and gross and I hate tying them. Actually, I would like 25 pairs of laces so they can be changed every two weeks. It would be ideal if you could work it out where one of your elves could just pop by my job every two weeks and replace them for me. I don’t want to try to keep up with 25 pairs of laces. If possible, send Lil’ Tid Bit to do it. He’s a cool fuckin’ elf and he usually has good weed.
- Vodka. I would like both premium vodka for when I am alone and drinking it on the rocks and also some bottom shelf vodka for when I am mixing it with something or sharing it with someone.
- Tequila. See above.
- A new job. I know that technically I could find a new job myself by going to Shiftgig, but I was thinking that if you could reach into your big ass bag of tricks it would be a huge help. I would prefer to be something like a college professor, an interior designer or maybe a movie star. If none of those are available, waiter is fine, but I’d like to be in a restaurant that has a 20% grat added to every table, no children are allowed and there is no limit on shift drinks. Actually, scrap the other jobs and just find me that one.
- A new reach-in cooler. It’s not for me, it’s for the restaurant. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be asking for something that would be for anyone but me, but the one we have now is not keeping my Chardonnay cold enough and it’s pissing me off.
- My two front teeth. That’s all I want for Christmas. And I promise I won’t open beer bottles with my mouth anymore even though it always impresses my tables and they tip me extra.
So, there you have it Santa. I don’t think it’s too much to ask since I really was pretty freakin’ stellar this year. I was nice to all of my customers. Well, to their face at least. What I say about them in the side stand doesn’t count, right? Or on the blog? Cool. Tell Rudolph that he owes me sixty-five bucks. He’ll know what you’re talking about.
The Bitchy Waiter