Fucking People

I officially hate people.  

All people.

Well almost all people.  I don’t hate you because you know better than to not tip.  At least you better.

In the world of money, tonight was the worst night I think I’ve ever had.  I’m starting to think it’s me.  Should I use breath mints?  Should I grow my hair out long?  Should I be nicer?  Bitchier?  What’s the deal.

I made exactly 10.4 percent of my sales tonight.  And the only real reason that I’m not about to explode is because I busted my ass all night and my total sales were high enough to help make up for it.  It’s the least I’ve made on a weekend night since back last summer.  I certainly hope this is not the sign of things to come.  I need to make some money.  It’s expensive having a boyfriend.  VERY!

So people I hate tonight.

The French.  

The Italians.

The Indians.

The Australians.

And most of all the fuckers from Frenchburg, Kentucky.  The fat momma and her pretentious daughter and her gay son and his gay German boyfriend can all just climb right back up on the tractor you drove in on and head back to the hollow you live in.  Fuck you.  And your horse.

First, my restaurant is not the place to put on airs.  If you want to be uppity there are about 10 other places a stones throw away that you can be as uppity as you want.  

Second.  Don’t order me around.  Ask Motherfucker.  I’m not your man servant for you to tell what to do.  It’s my job to fetch things for you, as long as you aren’t rude.  But if you going to sit there and be all sergeant blowhard on me, you’ll probably have to wait for that drink you want.  And you can be as prissy as you want about the drink menu book, but they’ll still be the same 20 minutes from now, you’ll still be over charged and no I won’t give you the glass for free.  And next time, so I don’t have to make two trips, actually look at what you are ordering.  They even put a fucking picture in the menu so your illiterate ass can figure out what you are ordering.  And don’t go all snap, snap on me when I bring you your drink and it’s not the one you thought you were getting.  It looks just like the one in the picture you pointed to. 

And mostly get a brain.  When I asked where you what part of Kentucky you are from don’t respnond with, “How do you know we are from Kentucky?”  It might be the three people sitting at the table with Kentucky gear on.   And then don’t tell me I’ll have never heard of it.  No really.  I’ve never been to fucking Frenchburg and after tonight I wouldn’t mind if it burnt to the ground but I’ve fucking heard of it.  And it’s not small.  Sadieville, KY is small.  That shit is real small.  300 people small.  So don’t tell me about small.  And don’t get all friendly when I tell you I know where Frenchburg is because I’m from Kentucky.

And then and this is with a capital DON’T.  DON’T get all I don’t know why anyone would want to move to the citttteeeeee.  It’s just too much.  I can’t take all the hustle and bustle.  Yes, you are probably right.  You can’t take all the hustle and bustle.  Our restaurant seats more people than are in your little town.  And it’s probably been awhile since you’ve eaten anywhere other than Midland Frosty Freeze or the Pig Out BBQ.  And I’ll make more in one month than the average male does in a year in your little town.  And don’t get me wrong I’m sure it’s a perfectly quaint little place.  But don’t get all snippy with me about “getting out.”  You see that gay boy sitting to your right?  Some day you are going to have to come back to NYC to meet his boyfriend.  And then I hope you realize that it’s quite an amazing place.

And  when you do come back.  And you do eat out.  And you are still a little uppity as you will always be want to do.  Let me just help you by saying 9.00 is not an acceptable tip on a 130.00 dollar check.  It’s not even close.  And don’t think it’s not a good tip here.  I’m about 99% sure that you are supposed to tip 18 to 20 percent in Frenchburg too.  So let’s suppose you go out to eat and the bill really is 130.00.  The tip should be at least 26.00.  Yes, I know that’s 20%.  But let’s not forget you are demanding and difficult and no one really likes you.  So you should probably leave more than that.  

But that will get you started.

I feel better already.

And just so you know.  I had the above conversation with my mom years ago.  She’s never tipped less that 20% since.

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