This blog and its Facebook page gets literally dozens of comments on it each day. I try to read as many as possible but quite honestly it can get overwhelming. Every once in a while, though, a comment rises to the top like a big stinky turd that doesn’t want go down the toilet. It just swirls around and around in a lazy circle determined to stay afloat until someone gets out the plunger and breaks that piece of shit up. I am that plunger and the piece of shit is someone who, oh-so-cleverly, calls herself Veruca Salt. Veruca, Veruca, Veruca, dear. I’m not even going to discuss how pitiful you sound by choosing to go by the name of a fictional character from the classic Roald Dahl book, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We get it: you think you are are witty and non-conforming by basing your online persona on a character who is known to be greedy, bitchy and self-centered. But, you see, dear, it would be better to use your real name and create your own persona rather than depend on having people make preconceived notions about your personality based on a book that was written 50 years ago. Nice try, though. And now that I think about it, you probably didn’t get the name from the book or even from the only movie version of the book that matters. (Gene Wilder, hello?) Let me guess. You saw the Johnny Depp movie a few years ago, right? That’s darling. Moving on, let’s discuss your comment. In response to a photo that was posted yesterday about how wonderful it feels for a server to be able to gently remind the customer that they are dead fucking wrong about something, Veruca unzipped her soft head, dug around the grey matter, reached into it with a pair of dirty tongs and came up with this:
So you say that if a waiter or waitress gives you attitude, you will give them no tip, is that it? I completely agree with you. Any server who throws attitude at a customer has forfeited their right to a tip because we are not there to give attitude. We are there to serve food, make your dining experience a good one and occasionally pull the golden goose egg out of your twat. However, do you think you have the right to give the server attitude? What is our recourse if you do that to us? You say you sometimes don’t want to read the menu because you expect us to have the answer. That makes no fucking sense at all, Veruca. Are you saying that you sit in a restaurant and make a laundry list of food items that you want and the waiter has to tell you whether or not it’s on the menu? I would say that is you giving a serious case of attitude to your server. Again, what recourse does the server have? You can withhold the tip if you’re unhappy with the server, but the server can’t withhold anything if he’s unhappy with you. (“Like Veruca ever says no to the tip,” says the guy who banged her in the pool hall bathroom after she made him promise to buy her two PBR’s as soon as he was finished.) You really think it’s okay to not read the menu, Veruca?
“I want a golden goose egg omelet and I want it now. I want it with a bean feast and pink macaroons a million balloons and performing baboons.”
“I’m sorry, miss, we don’t have any of those things in our kitchen. I will give you some time to look over the menu and I will come back in a moment to take your order.”
“I want it now!”
“Well, bitch, I want to punch you in your baby maker, but we can’t always get what we want. Read the fucking menu and make an educated decision, you spoiled piece of shit.”
Suddenly we are right back to the beginning of this blog post which was about a piece of shit circling the toilet, You, Veruca, are the piece of shit: a red dress with black buttons-wearing piece of shit who is not only a bad egg but a true pain in the ass to every server who has ever had to deal with you.