Wednesday, 18 March 2009

Manuel can from time to time be rather petulant...no really!

No one is talking to me at home. Meh. It happens from time to time especially with my tendency to slip in to asshole mode at the drop of a hat. Actually if you drop my hat I will beat you, hard. But I am used to riding it out, the coldness of others shoulders rarely bothers me. The many many many unanswered text messages, emails, and voice messages mean nothing. I am an island and yes my name is Madagascar.

This latest bout of freeze out the waiter was brought on by some tremendously petulant behaviour. By me, obviously. In my defense I was tired and not in the mood for pleasant conversation and/or the normal civilities of person to person contact. The decision not to replace my last packet of Niquitin lozenges was, in retrospect, premature. I spent most of Sunday rattling like a heroin addict, rattling and snapping. And I did feel bad, for a nano moment, when I snapped at the child who asked for the bill for her mother.

"Your mummy wants the bill?", I asked in one of those cutsie voices people adopt when talking to the little people.

"Yes please Mr Waiter Man", replied the little girl with the cutsie pigtails and chubby little dimples that would make even the most hard hearted bastard go,"ahhhhh".

"Well why don't you tell your mummy to get her fat fucking ass off the seat and come ask for it herself. Okay? Can you remember that? Good girl." And then tapped her on the head and pushed her out of the way.

Okay I didn't but I was sorely tempted. Waiter Chum Number One got a touch of my snap snapping when she suggested I should have seated a table of eight somewhere else and not in her section. Snap. It's funny how much work you can get done when no one is talking to you. Funny but lonely all the same. I was heading into a very dark place when I was stiffed by my last two tables of the evening and that despite having managed to get myself back onto a workable level of happiness. The Aussies left nothing, how unusual, and the lovely people from Cork left Euros. Euros? How fucking offensive.

I swore and I huffed and puffed and kicked the bottle skip as I stuffed my fat little arms into my coat. I was quite delighted to be going home. Home, where there is tea and giant cups from which to quaff the precious brown liquid. And this dear readers is when the real petulant action took place.

The Cousin, who was sitting quietly minding his own cousinly business on the couch, was greeted with a grunt when he wished me a hearty hello as I stormed my way through the sitting room. He was watching The Departed and was quite excited by this and he shared his excitement with me. I didn't care and made some snarky comment or other, I needed a cup of tea and not film reviews. I bashed the kettle on and lifted a cup from the cupboard and poked my chubby paw in the direction of the tea caddy to retrieve the bags of life only to discover that there were no tea bags contained therein.

You can take away my money, you can take away my farty smoking replacement lozenges, you can blank me and ridicule me behind my back or to my face and I will not really care but if you deny me my apres-work cup of life affirming tea then you can expect a reaction. And react I did, poorly at that. Threats were made, stairs stamped on, doors slammed, things thrown that shouldn't ever be thrown (mobile phone for example), sweary text messages fired off to people who shouldn't be spoken to in that way. Oh yes, I was no longer a man, but rather I was a man child and acting in every way like those petulant, arsy customers I detest so much. I was ashamed. But what the hell, one needs a blow out from time to time.

So to my Little Miss Manuel and The Cousin I apologise, oh and Waiter Chum Number One same goes for you too. But I really do like tea....

29 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

Belfast Plate Carrier said...

Euro? At the current exchange rate it's not to be sniffed at. And try getting so riled up by a table that you had to be talked out of ratting them into the police when they left.



Drink driving bastards.

Manuel said...

bpc: but I like my cash immediate...and not requiring the ball achery of having to go to the post office....

should have done it....ha, quality

wendy said...

My sweary text message must have gotten lost....

damn.

Waiter Extraordinaire said...

I served Aussies only a couple of times and they are worse than a table of Canadians.You have been through a lot lately and we have to be so perky with the guests all the time....

Fran said...

Not to worry pet. We've all been there. Sometimes I feel like I never leave 'there'.

Don't you have a jam jar for the Euros? I mean now that you don't need it for the tea...

Fran said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Boxer said...

group hug?

psychoknitter said...

Oh the temper the temper. I spend 50% of the time losing mine and the other 50% apologizing for it. :)

Jimmy Bastard said...

Holy Mary, I'm with you on the tea. Hah! To the feckin divil with the lot of them... Bastards all!

... I'd of took the Euros though.

Sharon said...

With a few Euro in your pocket, you could dash off for a nice relaxing trip to Lifford or Buncrana to lift your flagging spirits.

I fully empathise about the effects of a much wanted but unavailable cup of tea. I'm sure this heartfelt public apology will warm up all affected shoulders and you'll be back in the bosom of their love and affection again soon.

Killer said...

Everyone in my house does that once a year and it freaks me out.

Conan Drumm said...

Tsk, tsk. Tea, is it? Pfft. Filthy unmitigated staining wathery shite in a cup. You should do an hour's penance with the butcher boys.

ninetyninewords said...

What about stashing away an emergency bag? I don't know why I'm writing this, it would be NO fun to read about "Manuel returned home to find he was out of tea bags and was about to erupt when he remembered about the one he'd stashed away..".

But keeps your boots on, these are toe-stubbing times.

Red Leeroy said...

You've typed it, it's out there, all is forgiven. Tea is tea. It's important.

Manuel said...

wendy: ha!

steve: they truly are, man every time..stiff stiff stiff

fran: welcome Fran...oooh, my jam jar is over flowing, with tea bags at that!

boxer: please, thank you

psychoknitter: my ratio is my higher......I apologize in advance now...

jimmy: don't worry I took them.....I aint stupid

sharon: or Barcelona? ha

killer: it's important.....

conan: ahhhh, you take that back......

99 words: it's done.....seriously

red: damn right it is....

belfast cabby said...

Told ya never work St paddys its just not worth it. Always ends badly

Manuel said...

belfast cabby: aye but that was sunday!

The Cousin said...

Can you let me out now......its dark in here.......

MJ said...

Group grope?

B said...

so you leave the teabags in the tea to get a much teaness into you as possible.

...yet you add milk?

Manuel said...

the cousin: no.....stay there and think about what have done......and what happened to the new shelf eh?

mj: nice....

b: eeeeew...no, no milk

Old Knudsen said...

I can't imagine you as anything but pleasant. No ok I really imagine you like a bi-sexual Elton john.

Manuel said...

old k: ah, that's your dream that is......

Sassy Sundry said...

You could have gone all "The Departed" on Cousin and shot him up, so it could have been worse.

Hope you're feeling better.

Jennynib said...

Poor Manuel. I feel for you. X

I had a day like that last week, but mine ended in a middle finger salute to a Garda.

Not good. Not good at all.

Sheeeeeesh!

Red said...

Too many things....no cigarettes, or cigarette giver-upper aides, OR TEA?! A bad reaction is par for the course in desperate times such as those

Manuel said...

sassy: ha! It has been considered many times.....

jennynib: sounds like fun, do tell......!

red: yes, yes that's so very true....but of course you are just enabling me....I'll do it again now.....

Jennynib said...

Let's just say that, as the caring carer of certain family members of my awkward-as-arses family, I was having a Screaming Hairy Bastard of a bad day.

With Auntie in one ear and Sweetie non-stop-dialling my phone in the other, I came tearing around the corner in my Punto, so as to park and sort the lot out. Another driver came up beside me, beeping and pointing out his window and I lost what little grip of the plot I had. I yelled at him to attempt self copulation (except not in those exact words) and used a freshly bitten fingernail to accentuate my point.

He was a Garda. A deeply offended and unhappy Garda.

I did what any self respecting girl would do in these circumstances and put my head on the steering wheel and bawled.

He let me off.

I went around to the station to apologise properly and the lovely man gave me advice on stressful situation management.

I loves Gardas, I do!! :)

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