I need ketchup!

If your child is under the age of let’s say 68 then he shouldn’t be allowed to be rude to the waiter.

And if said child is really only six, he ESPECIALLY doesn’t get to be rude to the waiter.  And you know what little boy?  I don’t care that you don’t know where to put your ketchup…I’ll be happy to tell you where to put it.

I brought him the ketchup after he asked for it four times.

And why did he need to ask four times?  I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.  He asked four times BEFORE I left the table.

I can’t get your ketchup if you and your over demanding family won’t let me leave the table.

I was asked for the same things from this table at least six times.  BEFORE I ever walked away from the table.

And then.

I bring back every thing they need.  Including the ketchup.

And the little boy says to me.

I SAID I NEED KETCHUP.

Then tell your fucking dumb ass father who is sitting at the other end of the table to pass it to you.  It’s not my job to hand deliver it to you, place it on your hot dog and hold the damn thing while you eat.

Now stop being a pain in my ass.

Your welcome.

And will someone tell me how to say the following in every language known to man:

“I’m sorry that you want your food now.  I really am.  But unlike in your country we cook it first.  And unlike in your country a burger takes longer than three minutes to cook.  Well done as you’ve specified.  So unless you will share the magic of being able to pull food out of my ass to serve you on a plate.  And if you really are in hurry, there are three McDonald’s in five minute walking distance from here.

Oh.

And will someone also explain to the fucking table I had tonight, that you can’t order food, yell that it’s taking so long and then tell me as the food is on the way you only want three of the seven fajitas you’ve ordered because everyone is full from eating the appetizer.  We returned four complete order back to the kitchen that had to be thrown away because they realized way too late they were full.  FUCK.