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 Revenge |
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for a "straight waiter." Normally, I'd have fun with that. But it's like the time I was called a Jew-boy by some racist. If I'd had any sense at all I'd have said I was Jewish, so what about it?
You know how it
works. You only have to say to someone,
"Be careful, it's hot",
and every customer
in creation will touch
the plate.
Somehow I think that dishonesty about one's racial or religious background is disrespectful so I couldn't pretend to be gay when it counted. I just got real mad. But I was at work so I couldn't say anything. So I went into the kitchen. That's the place I normally go to curse. It's where I go to ridicule and verbally eviscerate each and every asshole customer. Then I go out on |
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the floor cleansed and ready for more. The four-top had already ordered and their food was coming up. So I asked the broiler chef to heat up a plate. I mean REEEAAALLLY heat one up. He looked at me and said, "okay." We dropped a well-done strip steak on to the nuclear-hot plate - that's what the ringleader of the four-top had ordered and I figured that he deserved most than the rest my little moment of waiter revenge.
I dropped the other three plates at the table. Then I picked up the hot plate, and it was hot. Through the scars on my waiter fingers, I could feel it. Indeed, I could do more than feel it. I could smell it. My fingers were burning. But I grinned and I hoisted the plate high and I said, "Excuse me., folks, excuse me, excuse me, everyone excuse me!" They stopped and looked at me. I turned to the gentleman, Mr. Ringleader, and I said, "Please be careful, sir, the plate is veeeery hotttt!" And then I set the plate right where I should, with about two inches of it hanging off the edge of the table. | |
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Revenge |
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Well, you know what happened next. I mean, you don't have to set the plate off the edge of the table to get someone to touch it. You know how it works. You only have to say to someone, "Be careful, it's hot", and every customer in creation will touch the plate. But that did it. He grabbed the plate and it flew skyward. It helped that he squealed like a little girl right after he grabbed it. We replaced it, of course. I said, "I'm soooo sorry," like I meant it. Yeah, right.
My tip was, well, nonexistent. But I had my tip, even if it took a long time to collect. I wrote this piece and I got paid for it. And if the universe is in total alignment, Mr. Ringleader is reading it, right now, and is looking at the scars on his fingertips. Well, maybe not. I just wanted a little bit of revenge. 
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Cartoon copyrighted by Mark Parisi,
printed with permission.
Doug Frost
Doug began his career as a waiter, working through all levels of the restaurant and wine industry. He is one of only three people in the world to have achieved the distinction of holding both Master of Wine and Master Sommalier accrediations.
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