Monday, 23 March 2009

Manuel es Muerto....well nearly

As the years go by and I become older and grouchier and more set in my ways I find I am becoming less tolerable of the mouther breathers, finger lickers and downright idiotic members of society. Sunday was Mother's Day, a day that fills me with fear every year. It's part of the holy trinity of restaurant events that induce panic in even the most fearless of waiters. The others being New Years Eve and St Valentine's Day. There are others that cause a milder panic but these are the three most buggery of all.

chaclats and flowers
your mother, your present.....!


But despite my fear, or maybe because of it, it was actually a pretty swell day. The atmosphere in the restaurant was quite lovely and free from the bingieness of previous years when it was more about the booze than the food. But there's always somebody that ruins it for everybody else and by everybody else I really mean me. Just one person on one table was all it took to change me from happy go lucky waiter at large to bitter twisted carrier of plates and fork stabbing psychopath.

"Here mate I need a word before my ma gets here", said the fat lad sweating with the profusion of a heavy weight boxer who has just done 12 rounds. I wouldn't mind but he had just walked round the restaurant.

I hunkered down beside him as he indicated with his chubby wet hands, "Yes sir what can I do for you?"

"Here's what it is like...youse must be giving the ma's some like free flowers or chaclats or som'hing like dat tilday seeing as it's muhers day. Is der anyway yis can gi me them now. I fargot til get her anyhing heh"

Oh my, what a fucking charmer! She is blessed to have such a loving wonderful son such as this douche.

"Free flowers sir? No, no we don't normally do that on Mother's Day sir", says I remaining on my knees despite the fact that I could feel my leg cramping up. Getting up was gonna be a challenge.

"Wha?", exclaimed the chubster, "...no flowers? Chaclats then?"

"No chocolates either, sorry bout that."

"See you fat bastard, you were told til get her a present last week!" Despite his best efforts to keep the content of our conversation from the other guests at the table his sister knew what he was at and was not best pleased.

"Why'd you even bring him?", asked the father with consternation and genuine anger.

Fat chops bolted upright which caused the sweat on his face to fly off and hit me.

It felt as hideous as it sounds. Sometimes I wish I had just stayed in school and finished the massive nerdy computer course I was on. Life would have duller for sure but the chances of being hit upside your face with the bodily fluids of fat sweaty people would have been slimmer.

I could not have been more disgusted if he had spat on me. But the urge to stab the sweaty selfish oaf was hard to resist. But resist I did and anyway his sister was talking him apart with a verbal volley of abuse that I haven't witnessed since I tried to jump over the horse in school. My gym teacher was a sadist and a master of sarcasm. So there was really nothing left to stab.

But despite his piss poor attempt to pass off the non-existent restaurant flowers and chocolates as being his own gift and despite him hitting me up my face with his pissy and no doubt hangover perspiration it got worse.

"Here ma...", says the heart attack in supermarket jeans and shirtless sweater, "...the tight gits don't even give youse any chaclats nor flowers fer muhers day. It's a disgrace so it is like."

I stood there, sort of erect as my leg was cramping away like goodo, with my mouth wide open at the balls of it all. I went sort of red too and then I remembered that this wasn't my Mother and I was under no requirement to furnish her with anything other than good food and good service and maybe a little bit of wit but that's all.

But quick as a flash she hit back with, "Well it's a good thing I have your present to open then."

"Ha!" exclaimed I as I walked away leaving sweaty balls to explain himself.....

Meh-thers day, done.

I'll be sleeping if anybody needs me......

22 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

sassysundry said...

Ewwwwww. Nasty. Lucky mother.

Manuel said...

sassy: nasty ain't the word.....filthy dirty sweaty selfish lazy.....i could go on...

Medbh said...

Why was he so sweaty?
Hangover?
Too much coffee?
Coke?

Yack at any rate.

You know what's even more gross? Tonight, I had the pooches out (my shift) and after 15 minutes discovered that I had dog shit smeared all the fuck over my heavy gloves. From yesterday.
With great reserve I refrained from throwing up.

Manuel said...

Medbh: hangover, no question...he stunk the place up with his stale booze aftershave....ah, yak yak yak! ahem, shit mittens!

daisyfae said...

at least he didn't steal the flatware, wrap it in a napkin and present her with a gift of fine cutlery. probably too dense to think that fast...

this guy is king douchenozzle...

MJ said...

Reminded once again why I never wanted children.

Waiter Extraordinaire said...

What a cheap fat ass!

Boxer said...

what MJ said.

Old Knudsen said...

I'm sure the mother is used to it hence the cum back.

On Valentines day do you add free love to the food?

Jimmy Bastard said...

A Spide amongst Spides..

I'd probably still have stuck a fork in the fat fucker, just to make sure he was done.

eatersregret said...

Hah great post. Sometimes I think that words cannot describe how truly awful some people are, but you do a bloody good job of it!

Anonymous said...

Im guessing that Mothers day is a different day in Belfast than in the USA. Or is this story a holdover from last mothers day. Just curious

Manuel said...

daisy: now that you mention it i was short a salt cellar.....

mj: indeed....i can get that sort of rejection from my own current family...

steve: indeed!

boxer: it's an odd day when we all agree with mj

old k: love no, no free love.....barely masked derision yes.....

jimmy: ha! yes for sure

eatersregret: welcome! i regret nothing by the way.....thank you

anonymous: yeah, mothers day was yesterday over here......

Jill said...

Should have stabbed him. I salute your control.

Manuel said...

Jill: yes, well I'm not a psychopath.....yet......ha!

Anonymous said...

What a fucking chump. Him not you. Honestly some people don't the right to life.

rubbishknitter said...

Lol. What a fine example of a son!

Your stories really are the verbal equivalent of the Anna Magnowska pictures you posted about a while back... fascinating and grotesque... kind of terrifying too... reading this blog has definitely made me think a lot more and try to be nicer to restaurant staff in general when I go out for tea! (Although I don't generally flick sweat onto them... I think I would have thrown up in the man's face, there and then)

Michelle said...

Good for mom, yeah, she's used to it.

Killer said...

Them chocks look nice...I dribbled when I seen them:@

problemchildbride said...

Bleugh! Seriously, eeee, bleugh and barf. That must have felt utterly disgusting. I'd have wrung out the mop on his potatoes for that. Splash for a splash.

Cat said...

speaking of looking at scanwiches...this is why most americans are fat

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/

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