It’s not often that I write about my actual customers anymore since so many of them know about this blog, there is the very real possibility that someone I write about may actually read about themselves. However, sometimes I throw caution to the wind in the same way I throw decaf into the regular pot and I just say, “Fuck it.” This couple and their little girl have compelled me to do so. It’s the little girl’s fault for being so damn annoying.
- She needed a high chair but then refused to sit in it. So not only did the highchair end up at the end of a booth making it near impossible for me to serve the table, they would not let me move it “just in case” the devil demon wanted to sit in it. She never did and instead the highchair was used to store all of her crap; coat, shoes, toys, a bottle and fucking partridge in a pear tree.
- She wouldn’t sit down. She insisted on standing up in the booth and when she wanted to eat something off of her mother’s plate, she would stretch out her whole body across the table and shove some pasta in her mouth, like she’s a barn house animal.
- When walking past them, I noticed there were three spoons on the table that I did not put there. “Odd,” I thought since I was the only server on the floor and there was no busser or runner. And then I spotted her, standing up in her seat (see above) and leaning over the back of the booth, reaching into the sidestand to grab silverware. Yes, her grimy, greasy, little girl hands were digging though silverware, so I placed a napkin over it to deter her thieving ways. I then watched here toss the napkin off and try again which is when I moved the spoons out of her reach. Rude little girl.
- She had too many toys with her, one of them being a doll that she kept upside down in a big plastic bag with a zipper that was hanging off her stroller. The doll looked like a suffocated baby in shrink wrap and it will give me nightmares.
- Her voice and the way she cried. The little girl was maybe two years old so she could talk just enough to have already developed vocal nodes. Like nails on a chalkboard, her voice clawed at my ears. And when she begin to cry, it was the first time I have ever heard sobbing mixed with vocal fry.
- She gave me the stink eye every time I walked past her. It was almost like she knew I was taking notes about her on a 3×5 index card that was in my apron. If looks could kill, her eyes were daggers stabbing me in the heart with a steak knife that, thankfully, I had removed from her reach just moments before. It’s almost as if she could sense my dislike for her in the same way a dog smells fear.
- Her haircut was a sin. She was definitely going for an Alfalfa from The Little Rascals look, with it parted in the middle when she clearly needed bangs, Her forehead looked like a putting green and she reminded me of Bette Davis when she played Queen Elizabeth. This little girl’s hairline was receding faster than the polar ice caps.
- When she left, the floor was a disaster. It was covered in pasta, crumbs, napkins and food I didn’t even serve them. (Full disclosure: some of that may have been there before she arrived.)
- Her bill was $60.98 and she left me $10. While that may be 16.33%, I needed 20% to make up for the stink eye and visual assault I experienced looking at her bad haircut.
Good bye, little girl. I am not a fan.