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Tuesday 22 July 2008

First impressions

imagine living with that.....
......let alone having to serve it for two hours.


"Hi, how are you?" asked the cheeky chappie waiter with no hint of the sarcasm or weariness that normally envelopes such a question.

No really! My mood was good.

"Fine....this your menu is it?" replied the stern looking man wearing a purple polo shirt with tan coloured blazer and what could only be described as matching tan hued Farrah-esque slacks. Rodney Dangerfield minus the humour. He was rifling through the carefully stacked and tidy menus like he was was searching for a shirt in his size. He could have just lifted the one on top, like any normal person would do.

Idiot.

I couldn't cope with working in a clothes shop. All that rifling and flinging would have me beside myself with anger, my developing OCD/anal retentiveness wouldn't be able to cope.

I handed him a copy of the menu saying,

"Yes sir that is indeed our menu." I resisted the urge to tell him it was actually a menu shaped goat, "Look here's it little goaty beard you buffoon." As I get older I realise my capacity to deal with moronic questions is becoming less and less.

He glanced at it without any sign of emotion or sign of approval. I wasn't looking for any "whoopdy doo's" or anything like that but most people make some sort of facial expression when they see something they like.

"Right, table for two" he barked with more than a hint of 'chop chop' to it.

I didn't like this guy. I didn't like the way he was dressed, apart from golfers and Coco the bloody Clown who would have? I didn't like his manner or demeanor. I am quick to judge, yes, but I'm almost always right. He was a tool, a finger snapper, an "expert", a gruff old fucker with too much time on his hands but not enough patience.

"Fuck you." I thought

"And do we have reservations this evening sir?" I asked knowing full well he didn't.

"Reservations? No good grief do we really need them." This reply only furthered my belief that was indeed a tool.

"No, no I think I have a table left, let me see. Ah yes just here sir." And pointed at the one table remaining, with a charming view of both the toilets and the door. A wonderful little table for sure.

Ha!

"Here? Beside the toilets? Have you nothing else?"

"Nope......all reserved sir."

Ha!

"Right then." He huffed, I smirked.

"And maybe sir would like a drink whilst you are waiting for your friend?"

"She's not my friend, she's my wife."

Charmer.

"Indeed sir, so a drink then?"

"No, no drink....yet."

And off I popped. Ludicrously dressed gruff old men - 0, waiters with full reservation books - 1. The exchange had been witness by one of the chefs who was busying himself by getting a cup of tea and generally hanging about the restaurant floor.

"Looks like fun" he whispered at me.

"Oh fuck hell yes" I replied "He's gonna complain about something, mark my words."

"I'll tell the rest" and off he went to warn the rest of the kitchen. Within moments there was a buffet of chefs (see what I did there?) hanging round the coffee machine all pretending to get tea whilst sizing up the problem child. Each arrived at the same impression as the first, "Looks like a cunt".

Indeed.

His wife was lovely, well dressed, pleasant, every inch the perfect guest. I watched them as they perused the menu. She pointed out this and that, he whinged and shook his head. She was trying hard to make the best of their night out. He was trying. Very trying.


I took their order in the cheeriest manner I could muster. Both her and I were really trying to compensate for his petulant behaviour. "Don't want that. Don't like that. Why haven't you got...blah blah fucking blah."

A short while later I served their starters. I watched them, she did everything but rub her tummy and go, "Yummy". He picked and pushed and grumped. I wanted to slap the big jelly faced sourpuss.

"So did we enjoy those?" I asked with baited breath.

"Oh mine was just lovely." Replied the lovely lady.

Nothing from bizarro Dangerfield. I asked again, as much to rile him as to satisfy my curiosity.

"It was dry, that's all, just too dry."

"The bread and oils were too dry sir? Ooooooookay then I'll let chef know."

Add oil to bread, it ain't that hard dilbag.

Main course served. Again I watched. Again she made lovely noises and smiled and looked frightfully happy. And again he moaned. He was, "disappointed" over all but couldn't say specifically why. I pushed him a little further.

"Well if you really must know....."

I must.

"....not enough ginger. You must tell the chefs to use real ginger not...[pause]...not fake ginger."

"Fake ginger sir?"

"Fake ginger" he insisted.

What the fuck was fake ginger? Was it made by the same people who make fake DKNY Handbags and what have you? Was there really a black market in counterfeit herbs and spices and that sort of thing? I went to see chef forthwith! The chef replied...

Well I cant really write what chef replied, this is a family blog and there maybe kids reading. But suffice to say there were threats, including advice were Bizarro Dangerfield could put, or rather, shove his fake ginger. And there was swearing, oh so much swearing.

I returned to the table armed only with sweet menus and minus the box of ginger that chef "suggested" I bring to the table.

"Now, would we like some sweets this evening?" I was really enjoying myself!

"I will..." said the lovely lady "....he'll probably just bloody complain." And with that she lifted her bag and went out for a smoke!

Fantastic! Take that daddy-o!

What was left of the meal was conducted in silence save for me and her chatting about tourists and other nonsense. The more we spoke the more he huffed. After a while I brought the bill.

"Give it to him, he's bloody paying."

"Yes madam, certainly!" I was grinning like a cat on speed.

"Oh and leave a damn good tip, he deserves it for the way you carried on tonight."

"You were lovely, thank you!" She held my hand, and her cigarettes, as she got up to leave. And in almost the same breath she turned to Bizzaro Dangerfield and said,

"Hurry up you....." but politeness took over and she just pursed her lips at him. I wonder what she was about to call him.....

First impressions eh, normally right.

38 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

GOD said...

Too, too funny. God, I miss that shit! No really.

Manuel said...

dennis: be careful what you ask for.....

Anonymous said...

Gosh, I kinda feel sorry for the poor miserable bastard. Yikes.

Manuel said...

eguinan: no! his wife and I gave him what he deserved....spoilt brat.....

Native Minnow said...

I feel sorry for the miserable bastard's wife. Oh, and you too, for having to put up with him for an evening.

Manuel said...

minnow: I felt sorry for her at first as she was trying so hard.....but soon realised that she was more than capable for this douche....

Anonymous said...

Perhaps the chefs could have offered to "moisten" the bread for the gentleman ?

Then again, maybe he was an undercover journalist looking to see how rude he would have to be before his food was tampered with. Expect to see a full page spread in one of the broadsheets next sunday about "Chefs revenge on unsuspecting diners". They might even include a photo of your sugarloaf.

Manuel said...

dad: more like "long suffering wife kills moaning husband"

Anonymous said...

with any luck, she continued to berate him on the drive home to the point where he was sniveling, crying and begging forgiveness.

or she just stabbed him with her diamond-encrusted platinum stabbing fork as they rode home in the taxi!

Manuel said...

daisyfae: yes well she was eyeing my trusty stabbing fork with interest....

Megan McGurk said...

Fake ginger?
Wha?
And it's made from?
What a loser.

Jenny said...

I heart her. Big time.

A classic "WDF". Thanks.

Anonymous said...

Numptie.

The Mistress said...

"a buffet of chefs"...

*wild applause*

Take a bow.

fatmammycat said...

Hah, jebus, imagine being married to that full time. A buffet of chef, indeed!

Anonymous said...

What is it with people who go out of their way to be objectionable? Unfortunately in the restaurant / bar trade they are more frequent.
Fake ginger? What a feltcher.

Anonymous said...

what a great story - and did the tit leave a good tip?

Manuel said...

medbh: kittens......it's made from kittens I assume....

boxer: I heart you too....

sam: I try my best...hehehehe

mj: a finger buffet at that...

fmc: separate rooms, the only way....!

sheepo: feltcher? NICE!

Conortje: tenner.....worth every penny..

Sharon McDaid said...

The description you give reminds me of our landlord when we 1st moved over; short, smarmy, rich and entitled. He was forever turning up at the house too.

Great post!

Manuel said...

sharon: it's the guys with entitlement issues that drive me nuts the most.....! thanks....

Kitty Catastrophe said...

Oh my, what a wankbag! That woman must have the patience of a flippin saint.

Manuel said...

kitty cat: either that or valium

Anonymous said...

Good god, hopefully the wife runs far away very soon. What a douche.

Manuel said...

jessie: oh you have to hope so......but that said I think she dealt with him rather well.....

Anonymous said...

Getting your fair share of them lately Manuel? He seems to have a problem with authority........as in he craves some? His patient wife seems to have him well in hand....so to speak.

Manuel said...

anfearbui: I know! There was that guy last week with "joke" issues too. There is a certain type of retired gentleman that frequents our place on a regular basis. So we have a high hit rate when it comes to those with entitlement issues......

B said...

"Rodney Dangerfield minus the humour"
Knew it'd be a good one from the line alone!

Manuel said...

b: bet it's the only line you read though......

B said...

nope I read it all, just my comments generally focus on one thing.
The chefs were overall the best bit in my opinion.



Do you want full on analysis of each post?

Anonymous said...

They're definitely breeding these guys somewhere in a laboratory experiment gone horribly wrong. Straight out of, and not far removed from, the primordial ooze.

Mudflapgypsy said...

I gotta get me some of that fake ginger, can you hook me up?

Mr. DNA said...

"....he'll probably just bloody complain."

I wonder if he gives her notes on ways to improve after they have sex. Fake ginger is the least of his worries.

Manuel said...

b: yes, yes please........hehehehe

jen: yes straight from the ooze to me.....

muddy: shhhhhh, I'll meet you later....

mr dna: yeah he has me now too....

B said...

it's in the post.

Manuel said...

b: I'll look out for it.......

Crispy said...

Hilarious!! Where do these people come from, and why on eatrh would they go out for dinner in a fould mood. She shoulda left the grumpy bastard in the car!!

heather said...

ok, so once again i have found a blog written by someone much more skilled than myself at maneuvering the english language.

love you for it.

don't know what crawled up his ass and died but she was a gem. :)

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