It would be fair to say things weren't exactly going my way at the start of the night. I had a table of ten reduce to eight, thus no service charge. I wouldn't mind but they were teachers, and they aren't well known for being either easy to serve or generous. On another table I had Australians, also famously tight with the cash. On yet another table I had some really lovely Japanese tourists who again are even less generous than the Australians. So despite having a half full restaurant I guessed I was about to make sweet fuck all for myself.
I grumped for a while. What else was there to do?
Then the door opened and in strode 3 huge American chaps.
G-Men, no doubting it either. They all looked like they had come straight from I-Rack. They were immensely polite and kept calling me sir which in itself was amusing. It felt like an episode of Little House on the Baghdad Prairie. They ordered and ate and drank and were polite and when I wasn't at the table they talked openly. But should I come anywhere near it they clammed up like fuck. This also amused me. I kept finding reasons to go back to their table and the tables around them and every time I did they stopped taking.
This was great craic!
In the end I decided to pull them on it. "Hey lads, if you stop talking when I come over I can't hear what you are talking about!" They laughed but at least I had found a way of starting a conversation with them. So I just went straight for the jugular.
"Soooooooo, you must be here for the Presidents visit then?"
Now, if you are a member of the secret service or something like that and you don't wish to divulge this information to the nosey waiter my advice is to answer quickly. It's best not to stare at each other and then just say,
And then rapidly follow it up with,
"Yeah I suppose we are" and then get all grumpy about it. It's not like I was
waterboarding using legitimate interrogation techniques on them.
By the end of the night I had another three tables of tall polite American men with dubious reasons why they were in Belfast. I outed them all. The best was the table of two who laughed when I asked them in they were here for Shrub's visit and then said no comment. I quickly changed the conversation and asked them if they had been in Belfast before. The really tall one answered,
"Yeah, I was last here six years ago."
That would have been when Bush last came for a
Guinness cup of tea? Maybe I have some tremendous ability for interrogation that I never knew. Any way they are all coming back again tomorrow for dinner. I'll try and find out where they keep the alien ships and who really killed Kennedy. After all it wasn't you and me.
So outing G-Men is my new hobby and a welcome distraction from dull tables of teachers who in the end left me 15%! The G-Men all tipped well too. One left his pen behind as well. I took it apart, just in case..........