5,4,3,2,1 make rocket go now.......

Wednesday was fun, I mean what else could it be when you have 80 rocket scientists booked for dinner!? That's right actual rocket scientists. In they shuffled as giddy as politicians in a massage parlour with pockets full of oranges and gimp masks on hand. (Politicians that is, not the geeks) I think they were just happy to be out in public with other people as opposed to sitting in their parents basement listening to math rock whilst chatting online in a Dungeons & Dragons forum.

Gee whizz, do I love a good stereotype, especially a nerd/geek related one.
I've done it before....

5,4,3,2,1...
..."make rocket go now"

...and I'm probably going to do it again!
Like right now.

We are the restaurant of choice for this particular band group petri dish of scientific delight. We had them last year as well. They were very naughty scientists last year as some of them skipped off without paying leaving the leader of the group (and man with very large head) to pay an extra £150 AND someone in his group stole his camera. Bad boffins, very bad boffins. Bad night for super brain too.

But we had plans in place to ensure that this didn't happen tonight. We devised a portable till system, that involved a pint glass and a calculator. Take that slippery boffin types. Your massive intellect is no match for my trusty beer receptacle and Casio calculator.

Mwahahahahahaha!

Saying that my pint glass/calculator system was no match for their ordering system. They had emailed their order in the day before. Standard issue for a table of that size. And the sheet was very clear and mathematically accurate.

It was all going so swimmingly well until we approached the first table of twenty with their starters.

"Who's having the duck to start then?" asked the charming little man festooned with plates of duck confit. (Me)

Blank expressions

At first I put this down to a language difficulty, these boffins were from every corner of the world. Some where even Irish as I discovered when I approached one lady and asked where she was from in my, speaking to foreigners voice. "I'm from Dublin" she replied in her speaking to idiots voice.

Eek!

I persevered, "Duck folks? Anyone having the duck?"

I refused to make "Quack Quack" noises. The duck would go cold before that happened. They stared at me with confused and baffled expressions, I looked back with increasing anger. Ducks are indeed small but when you are carrying four they tend to get heavy after a while. A couple of them shrugged their shoulders, some just looked lost, some looked scared. I looked round to one of the other waiters for some sort of help. Just at that moment one of them came skipping past, fresh from serving her twenty starters with ease.

"What have you got?" She asked

"Kryptonite I think. No one will take these ducks from me!"

"Duck?"

"Duck." I confirmed

"Yeah that's number 2"

"What?"

"Watch and learn old man." And she relieved me of my cooling ducks.

"Who's starting with number 2?"

Four hands went up. Bastards. In front of each of them they had a slip of paper with four numbers on them. Each number related to a menu item. Two appeared to be duck. Only rocket scientists could turn something as wonderful as going to dinner into a mathematical formula. I spent the rest of the evening serving medium rare 9's and 14's with extra cream.

Beware geeks bearing maths formulae!

******

The barmen are getting agitated too....