Wednesday, 6 May 2009

Manuel and the Infinite Smugness of Marathon Runners.

You know it's not going to be pretty when the infinite smugness of marathon runners collides, not literally you understand, with the barely repressed jealousy and tubbiness of the waiter. I mean one is a self important egomaniac with insecurity issues and a need to constantly challenge themselves and others around them and the other is.....oh wait. Makes for an interesting day at work though.

cheesy does it...

The restaurant was overrun, ahem, with self-satisfied types on Monday following the Belfast City Marathon, a marathon that is very similar to the likes of the New York City Marathon and the London Marathon. Well okay the distance is the same but that's about it. Has the NY marathon ever had to be stopped because a bunch of irate lorry drivers got a bit mouthy about being late with their deliveries? I very much doubt it. Quality work Belfast, quality work.

But yes the restaurant was full of people who rejoice in the smell of their own farts. This upping of the smug level was particularly annoying for me as I am the guardian and indeed master of the smugness round these parts. It's all fake, obviously, as I have nothing to be smug about what with my chubster paws and Quasimodo'd posture. But it keeps people guessing.

The afternoon diners weren't as annoying as the evening diners. They were smellier for sure and inappropriately dressed for a late lunch but substantially less annoying. Obviously like all right minded people I believe that tracksuits and shorts have no place in a restaurant unless of course that restaurant is at a gym or one of those imaginary places that I hear people talking about, leisure centres and that sort of thing. [Shudder]

Yes there was far too many near cock n ball popping incidents for my liking for a Monday afternoon what with the stretching between courses and the constant need for bending over. Why must they bend and stretch so much? Why? I'm an innocent child and found all these near escaping genitals quite frightening. One minute you are serving sausage on a bed on mash, next there it is poking out and winking at you from a pair of loose fitting Adidas. All rather frightful I must say.

Near escaping woo woos and wee wees aside the real bell ends didn't reveal themselves until night time. Now don't get me wrong I am all for people running marathons and if you do it for charity whilst dressed as a Dalek or a whilst balancing a roll of £1.00 coins on yer elbow then who the hell am I to criticize or belittle your sparkling effort. I say more power to you. But the self satisfied, smell of their own fart loving, Nikeeeeee wearing (and wankily pronouncing), carb munchers, Lucozade Power drinking douche bags and sons of douche bags that think they are the only people who have ever run a marathon ever and wear it like a badge that they think affords them special privileges and the right to be a total ass can go fuck themselves with a four foot wide pedometer.

Phew, feels good to get that out.

"Oh hi man....", said the tall tanned cheesy looking guy at the door. Obviously by calling me "man" he was down ten waiter points. Waiter points? That's right, waiter points and he was minus ten already for inappropriate greeting.

"Yes indeed and how can I..."

"Yeah man can you hook me up with a table for like six or seven" asked the tall tanned cheesy looking guy. His tallness and super fake tan combined with his cheesiness reminded me of a tube of smoked German cheese. Now clearly he was down another 20 waiter points. Ten for interrupting me and ten for using the phrase, "hook me up". I am a waiter and not a pimp/drug dealer. I do not hook people up with shit or as it comes to it, tables either.

"Oooooookay then", says I adopting my, "are you for reals?" face.

"And what name are you reserved under then.....man?"

He was too busy poking about in his iPhone to hear me which forced me to repeat the question. Minus a further ten waiter points.

"Reservation? Ah man, don't have one. Do I need one?"

"Well yes sir, it is a rather busy night."

Still with a tan finger hovering over his iPhone he replied with, "Maaan, I couldn't get a table booked this afternoon.....I was.....well...you know....doing a bit of running...the eh...you know marathon....this afternoon."

He said it like I was supposed to be impressed. I was not impressed. He was down a further twenty waiter points after this pitiful exchange but not for what he said but for the way he said it and the painfully cheesy facial expressions he made whilst saying it.

Ignoring this I offered him a table at half eight. This wouldn't do as he was meeting other "pals" later for "champers". The cheese was oozing from him worse than from a busted tube of Primula in the hands of fat kid. Just then one of his "pals" arrived.

"You get our table yet Johnny?", asked the rather excitable pal. He was bouncing about like a horny Spaniel.

"Not yet Marky, my man here says they have nothing 'til eight."

"Half eight". My man? My man my hole. Cheeky fucker. I enjoyed correcting him. Hell I enjoy correcting most people. So I awarded myself twenty waiter points right there for quality correction.

"Half eight Johnny? Ain't gonna work. You tell him we ran the marathon today?" It was if the horny Spaniel guy couldn't see me and this despite me being right beside him and with the build of a small out house. I'm not exactly ninja like.

"Yeah Marky, no dice though, no dice."

They tried again with the pleading and the hero routine but alas all to no avail. I wasn't being a bastard, we just didn't have any tables until half eight. I was enjoying myself though which is a little bastardish. But they then pulled a shit little move that really annoyed me.

They slunk off and had a little chat outside. Within a minute or two the rest of their ill fated, and doomed not to dine with Manuel, party arrived. There were three women with them now. So guess what they did? They tried the old, "send in the honeys routine" cause all men like a honey. Manuel likes honey on his carrots and maybe occasionally in his breakfast cereal but that's it.

The ladies were rather pleasant and I enjoyed talking to them, didn't get them a table though.

"Just like I told your friends, Mark and Johnny, we don't have any tables for you even if you have just run a marathon."

Their little faces were precious when they realised that I had rumbled their ruse. They were just about to walk away when the horny spaniel man came bounding in all horny and spaniel like and blundered out, "Well did it work? We in?"

No, no horny spaniel man it didn't work. Minus four thousand to you and plus fifty to me. I waddled off and had a Snickers to celebrate my little victory. You cant bullshit a bullshitter and you cant give out tables you just don't have, even if the person wanting the table has just run a marathon.

24 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

Belfast Plate Carrier said...

I spent a pleasing four hours sat under the awning in front of Annies and mocking the limping simpletons in Canterbury tracksuit tops. I know who had the real fun that day.

Sniffle said...

A snickers to celebrate. Not a marathon ?

Ms. McDermott said...

Quasimodo, you say? I always pictured you as more of an Igor (Marty Feldman).

Manuel said...

BPC: that's the true waiter spirit right there....huzzah to you....

sniffle: you saw what I did there eh.....to tell you the truth it was a crunchie but snickers worked better....

ms mcd: ha! I wish......!

daisyfae said...

how many waiter points would they have lost for appearing at your restaurant with bloody nipples? my favorite part of a marathon...

Manuel said...

daisy: damn it....I was gonna mention that.....thankfully there was none on display but it was used in conversation....not cool not cool at all....minus 50 for mentioning it....permanent ban for getting them out....

Jill said...

Glad you're back kiddo. Ten customer points for that.

Medbh said...

Have you ever taken money to get someone a table quicker?
Once I took 50 bucks to give some dude and his date the next open table.
All's fair in love and restaurant seating!

MJ said...

I am smug about the fact that I won't even run to catch a bus.

Boxer said...

I'd take two Snickers for a table. I'm cheap like that.

Jimmy Bastard said...

How many times a night do the words "Get tay fuck" form on the very tip of your tongue?

Little miss manuel said...

You didnt mention that i did some of the marathon:( !! Wud u hav given me a table?

Dave said...

I've had that 'honey' move pulled on me before as well. I don't care if you're cindy fucking crawford or the elephant man..... everyone gets treated the same.

Belfast Barista said...

Muahaha 50 Cookies (sorry, Waiter Points) to Manuel!
I spent all day in bed with the lurgey (thankfully not the swine-type) and I still think I had a more enjoyable day than those smug posing twats :D

God I hate people who think they can pull shit like that, frickin' yuppies.
Word to customers- be sound, ask nicely, build up a good store of points before ever asking a favour from staff. And remember thoses Ps & Qs!!!!!!
Anyone who was ever rudeto me was told 'cutlery/water/napkins over there, help yourself' 'You wanna pay your bill? till's over there mate'.

Manuel said...

jill: kiddo? arf! but cheers....

Medbh: no......I mean if we have a table you get a table..if not no money is ever gonna get you seated......

mj: ah me n you both.....

boxer: ha!

jimmy: countless......most before we even open....

LMM: awh.....but you weren't being smug....so I let you out

Dave: huzzah!

belfast barista: well said that barista.....

Sharon said...

What's wrong with heading off to shower and change before going out to eat? If I ever ran a marathon (not gonna happen) I'd look for a bit of praise where I could like the junkie I am. But to try to trade on it for perks is just silly.

Apparently alcohol has a greater effect on the runners afterwards.

Congratulation LMM for your non-smug achievement.

Manuel said...

Sahron! I KNOW! what's that all about?! Dirty smug marathon runners......Yes huzzah for LMM......I wasn't even out of bed by the time she had finished it.....arf

jen said...

How do the waiter points work? Do customers start off with a certain number and then get deductions for bad behaviour? Or does everyone start off at 0? (Feeling scientific today, see.)

AnFearBui said...

"....Jim Fixx the best selling author of ‘The Complete Book of Running’ and guru of the jogging generation died of a heart attack on 20th July 1984 from a heart attack on his daily jog around Vermont aged 52".....enough said

eguinan said...

What fun. This guy sounds like a Dublin 4 dude. Slaps.


PS: Just catching up on lost weeks of Manuel. Very sorry about your dad's prognosis.

savannah said...

three cheers for LMM!

but like you and mj, hell, i don't even run to answer the phone! anyway, y'all are the best waiter ever! as too those runners i figure they probably didn't even finish, the self-important-windbag-asshole-creep- muthafuckas! *whew*

(yes, savannah has issues today!)

Belfast Barista said...

@jen:
Ahh the good ol' Waiter Points (or Barista Points) System....
Most people start at zero...depending on how they treat you, they can build up a good store within minutes, of go down to minus numbers in seconds. It's all about their attitude and how they bahave towards you. Regular customers can have long term good or bad scores- like the super favourite customers we love and always go out of our way to make happy :) (or our hated 'double-cream-in-his-milk-jug-every-morning-cos-he's-a-wanker-guy' who never went above -100)
It's all about being SOUND :D (to non- Norn Irn people, that means 'nice')
I guess W. Points are a bit like Karma :)

Do you concur, Manuel? :)

Manuel said...

jen: what the belfast barista said.....!

eguinan: cheers...means a lot

AnFearBui: heh...yes and that Allen Carr too.....he's dead too

savannah: yes huzzah for her.....wee darling...

belfast barista: completely....

sugarpie said...

Yeeeeiiiikes! Exercise clothes in general and especially those with a piercing "marathon miasma" rolling off themselves.

They're in the shops and markets and just about everywhere else. They can't be bothered to wash or pull on a clean pair of anything. Yet they manage to put on all their ugly gold jewelry afterword? (This isnt bringing the best out of me or anyone else.)