I love my customers. All of my customers. Well, most of them. There are moments when I'm less than pleased with the behavior of some of the less socialized among those seated in my station. Sometimes they're weird, sometimes they won't sit back and relax and enjoy my brilliant service. And then sometimes they're just rude. Not like they're not paying attention to me, or treating me with lack of concern. No, I mean ruuuuude. My job is to be above that sort of thing. My job is to kill them with kindness. I will l always believe that any server can take care of a happy, polite customer. It's a special server (that would be me) that can turn an unhappy, hostile, perhaps even sociopathic, customer into Gandhi. That's my motive. But sometimes I fall short.
There was this four-top some years ago. Two couples, all of them a little soused. I came up to the table and did my usual happy and welcoming guy. They weren't in the receptive mood, I guess. The two guys started tossing |
some abuse my way. The kind of abuse that works well on grade school playgrounds, real high level stuff, impugning my manhood and that sort of thing. It shouldn't have worked on me. But, I guess it always did, just like when I was a kid.
And then sometimes they're just rude. Not like they're not paying attention to me, or treating me with lack of concern. No, I mean ruuuuude.
My job is to be above that sort of thing.
The ladies were drunk, so they started tittering. The guys got going and were high-fiving each other and acting, well, kinda gay and the complete asshole, lets call him "Mr Ringleader," he asked |
