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Sunday, February 13, 2005

To The Rude And Annoying Kiwi Woman Who Ate At The Pub I Work At Last Night:

First of all, I'd like to say thank you for being a guest at the House of Ales. I hope your meal was satisfactory. I'm pretty sure it was; you ate everything on your plate, and then sopped up the juice with a small piece of bread when you were done.

When you finished, you snapped your fingers at me in order to get my attention. Thank you for that. Many people would have simply waited until the person who was serving them came by (which was not me), or approached the bar, but you decided to "make it happen" as they say, and you knew that with a snap of your fingers, I would be at your attention. I approached your table, and you pointed out an error on your bill (which I did not ring up). Instead of making a query about the error, you simply demanded your two dollars back.

'I'll take my two dollars back, thanks,' you said, in your shrill, nasal voice. I wasn't sure there was an error on the bill, since the special salad you ate was actually listed for thirteen dollars, and that's what you were charged. I nearly suggested that instead of bringing you the two dollars, I would instead split your head open with a hatchet, but I ended up grimacing and retreating behind the bar to discuss the matter with the shift manager, a nineteen-year-old girl with a nice decolletage, but little else in the way of redeeming features. It turned out that she wrote on one of the six specials boards outside that the salad was actually ten dollars instead of thirteen dollars. She was also the one who took your order and waited on you earlier. Remember her? She was the one with the nice decolletage. I suppose you can be forgiven for thinking that I was the one taking care of you--after all, I did pour you a glass of our finest house chardonnay earlier when you called out 'Excuse me! I'd like to order a drink now!' while I was making a latte for the older gentlemen who was waiting patiently at table eight.

I'm pleased that you were able to recover your two dollar coin with the help of our shift manager. May I suggest that you put it towards some kind of surgery involving lasers that might be able to explode your heart and kill you instantly?


Christopher Zane


Blogger Ben said...

décolletage is a fun word!

11:47 PM  

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