Must. Eat. Pie.

Does anyone else have their foot in their mouth so often that you have grown accustomed to the taste? Do you look at your toes as appetizers and your feet as the main course with a side of crow for dessert? Generally I am pretty good about keeping my thoughts just that: something that I alone can hear, but occasionally my insides bubble over with rage and frustration and my voice spews out what my brain is thinking. Sometimes it’s possible to mask it with humor and people don’t realize how much truth there is in the statement. Example: A customer comes in ten minutes before closing and says, “Oh, is it okay if we eat now? Are you going to hate us?” And then I say, “No. it’s fine, but the kitchen crew will not be happy and are going to be cursing you and your unborn children.” Then I laugh and roll my eyes and touch them on the elbow and say, “just kidding.” But I’m not kidding.

A few years ago, I was serving a a party of ten or twelve people. They were all really loud and none of them would pay any attention to me when ever I tried to talk to them. Throughout the meal, I got progressively more frustrated with them and they never even noticed. By the time their plates were cleared and I was asking about dessert and coffee they had completely forgotten that there was a waiter there. Repeatedly, I asked if anyone wanted anything and only the lady next to me paid any attention and ordered an apple pie ala mode. Clearing my throat, I repeat, “So does anyone want dessert or coffee? Anyone? Hello??” Again, they all ignored me. I had had it. “OKAY! So the only one that wants dessert is the full figured gal up here at the head of the table??” Did I really just say that? The table got quiet and all looked at me and then they looked at the fat ass who wanted pie. A deathly silence hung over the table and it seemed to last longer than The Blind Side (starring Academy award winner, Sandra Bullock) as everyone looked at Fat Ass to see how she was going to respond to the horribly rude waiter who had just insulted her in front of her friends. She paused. I held my breath. I looked at her. She slowly turned her head in my direction and our eyes locked. And then she said, “That’s right I’m the only one who wants dessert, I guess, so bring it on!” And then she laughed. I laughed and told her I would be right back with it. I comped it. My inside voice thought it was the least I could do. I had once again firmly planted my foot inside my mouth which was better than having it in her mouth because she would have eaten it. Bitch was hungry.

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