6. LE DOUCHE
Le Douche, usually of Armenian or Persian persuasion, is there to impress the ladies and demean the staff. Every single question or command is prefaced with "HEY BRO" in a thick, Dracula-like accent. He will only speak when he's able to interrupt you. He can smell single on any woman within a 10-mile radius, freely offering them shots of chilled Grey Goose (and then trying to douche his way out of paying for them).
And speaking of tracking smells, guard your nostrils from his deadly signature scent of body odor, homemade nicotine, and Drakkar cologne.
7. THE CLASSY SLUTS
The target audience of Le Douche is usually this unusual hybrid. Through lucrative careers in porn, these self-esteem challenged ladies of the Internet can afford the finest. However, there's no accounting for taste. Unlike the varied orange and blonde components of their bodies, class cannot be purchased.
They're rarely polite because they believe EVERYONE -- from the horny frat boy waiter, to the married hostess, to the flamboyantly gay manager -- wants to sleep with them (and by "sleep" I mean "tie to a stairwell, role play, and degrade"). And I think it goes without saying that they're all collectively as dumb as the day is long. But because of their moderate income and morally bankrupt fan-base, they get by.
However, even with their dick-sucking lips, ski mogul breasts, Raggedy Ann make-up and yellow follicles, they remind me of the phrase "Paint a turd gold, and it's still a turd."
8. THE PROUD PARENTS
I would never begrudge anyone for engaging in their biological right to procreate. Expecting me to share their enthusiasm for the little bundle of joy? That's an entirely different matter.
Furthermore, I have no issue with parents who bring small children into age-appropriate restaurants (seeing as how most of my customers can scarcely draw pictures to express themselves -- let alone speak coherently -- infants blend in seamlessly). What really irks me is when I'm expected to cater to the child beyond a standard level of restaurant service.
It's not my job to babysit. It's not my job to cut your child's food. It's not my job to custom select which colors of Crayon accompany his/her kid's menu. It's not my job to clean up after your little demon's arts & crafts session with the food. And it's certainly not my job to coo like Mrs. Doubtfire so you can believe you've done the world a great service by getting knocked up.
Finally, if your little rug rat is throwing a tantrum, perhaps you might try taking him/her outside as not to ruin the dining experience of those around you? No? Feeling as though your ability to reproduce gives you license and superiority? Think again. No one else is excited to meet your child. No one.
9. THE VERBAL TIPPERS!!!!
They...are so...happy to be there!! This drink is yummy!! This carne asada is the best I've ever had!! May we have please please have more yum yum chips and salsa please?? Thank you!! This was the BEST service we've ever had here, we will ask for you next time we come back!! Call over the owner and let us tell him how A-W-E-S-O-M-E you are!!!
Thanks. I took all those needless accolades you doled out in lieu of a decent tip. I called the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power to see if I could apply your compliments towards my bill. Guess what? I can't. So if you want to show gratitude, tip accordingly, and save your grating blather for The Proud Parents and their ugly baby.
10. EVERYONE ELSE
Out of fairness, I have to make some provision for those of you who know how to dine in public. Not everyone is a wretched customer. In fact, I'd say 85 % of the people I serve are without annoyance or incident. They're polite, I provide speedy and reasonably warm service, they pay the bill when they're done, tip at least 20 %, and leave.
But what fun would it be if I blogged about them? We'll stick to that other 15 % of humanity.