Riding on the lovely 7 train yesterday, I spotted one of those mothers who thinks it’s a good idea to attach their child to a leash. However, the leash was made to look like a a monkey so as not to seem so I-have-my-kid-on-a-leash-ish. So the monkey part looked like it was hugging the kid and then the tail was what the mom was holding on to. But, still. Your kid on a leash? As she got onto the train, she dragged her baby behind her. It just seemed wrong. Call me old fashioned but can’t you just keep your eyes on your child instead of a rope? But then I started thinking about how handy those leashes would be in a restaurant. Every person who asks for a child’s menu would also get a leash that they would be required to attach to the kid so that it is forced to stay at his table. Kiddos, don’t be getting all in my fucking way when I’m trying to carry a tray of food. Put that leash on! And in the restaurant, the leashes should not be all cute adorable ones that look harmless and fun. I want real actual leashes. From Petco. The kind that are made of polyester or leather. And I want studs and spikes on them so if the child moves so much as an inch away from the table, the discomfort will force him back to the booster seat they made me get. Or better yet, why not a leash made of a bungee cord? I like this idea. A really elastic one. And I would lure the child away from their table with a big pile of chicken fingers. The kid would walk towards the food and then I would inch it a little further away and keep doing that until the adorable tot is struggling against the elasticity of the cord. One foot further and then the bungee cord would do its thing and snap that kid right back to his seat where he was supposed to be anyway. I would lure the kid up and over tables first so that when he was being bungeed back to his inattentive parents he would go under tables and over booths and maybe get smacked around a little bit on the way. It would be an excellent lesson for that poor dear child. Stay in your seat. Don’t move. Be quiet.
So I always feel like waiting tables is something I can fall back on. Not just because it pays so amazingly well and I am so wonderful at it, but also because it is so completely fucking fulfilling. But then I get word that there is this restaurant in Japan or Chinatown or some fucking place that has monkeys as waiters. As if the cafeteria and the buffet were not enough to do away with my profession of choice, now someone is hiring freaking monkeys to do my job? Okay, well this isn’t really my profession of choice. It’s more like it was handed to me on a silver platter but the platter was too hot to handle and no one told me it was that hot and I burned off my fingerprints and then after I dropped it, the silver platter broke into a thousand pieces and then they asked me to clean it up and they told me the cost of the platter would be coming out of my next paycheck. Anyhoo, I digress. These monkeys in Japan are getting paid with soybeans, peanuts and pats on the head. I get paid with nickels, dimes and the occasional pat on the ass (okay that never happens). What is this restaurant world coming to? A monkey can never replace me. Can a monkey draw little smiley faces on the check? Can he forget to ring in your food and then tell you that the kitchen printer fucked up and they never got the order? Can a monkey tell you “you can make your own fucking cocktail sauce, asshole.”? I don’t think so. These are things that make me and every other human waiter so special. The only monkey I want to see in a restaurant is a little pink plastic one that is hanging off my Mai Tai or one that is flying out of my ass when a monkey puts on my stained dirty apron and takes an order from Cunty McCuntcunt at Table 206. Check out the video of the bastards who want my job.