I recently had to deal with a young hipster couple on a whimsical first date. He, of awkward and constant self-congratulation, and she, of the "Aren't-I-a-cute-Asian-girl-speaking-in-a-perpetual-whine" variety, quickly found themselves in my bullseye.
("Geek Sqaud" and "Ming," I shall call them)
I greeted them and set down the chips and salsa. Ming quickly took to her iPhone and snapped a picture of the greasy basket and bowl and uploaded the pic to Instagram after giving it a faux vintage feel. Geek Squad in turn took to his phone so he could comment on Ming's snapshot.
"I liked your picture," he informed her with what seemed like slight arousal.
"I want a hot tea," she whined to me with an affected frown on her face. "It's really cold!!"
I realized at this moment that her frown wasn't so much an affectation but a perpetual fixture on her face. Someone hadn't just hit this girl with an ugly stick; they made her the ugly stick's bitch.
"I want a Root Beer," Geek Squad informed me while rubbing his greasy chip-stained hand all over Ming's.
"We don't have Root Beer," I informed him.
"Uhhhhhhhh," he countered, "What kind of establishment doesn't serve Root Beer??"
I rolled my eyes in annoyance so slowly that I thought I could see into the future.
"I guess this means you all don't do Root Beer floats??" he asked.
Yes, we do. We don't have Root Beer, but we do have a special version of it that, while not available on its own, manifests itself instantly if you pour it over ice cream.
He ordered a Coke and I trotted off. Until I heard Ming call out, "Waaaait!!"
I turned around, leading with my raised eyebrow.
"Do you all have any hot soup, like miso soup?"
"You two do realize this is a Mexican restaurant, yes?" I inquired.
"Uhhhhhhh," Geek Squad prefaced his prose, "I'm not sure what you mean?"
"Root Beer floats and miso soup aren't usually served at Mexican restaurants. Think tortilla soup or margaritas."
Or, think about heading to a food court.
I returned with their drinks. He was taking a variety of shots of her with his iPhone, each one of them more pouty than the one before. I wanted to add her on Facebook just to see which Hipstamatic ended up as her profile pic.
"Let's order, I'm tired of eating all these chips!!!!" she whined, frowned and pouted.
"We'll split a large steak nachos," he told me. "And we want the black beans, guacamole, sour cream, salsa and jalapenos all on the side."
I returned 10 minutes later. Before I could set down the cumbersome, scalding hot platter, Ming and Geek Squad had their iPhones out, snapping away as if I were setting a Kardashian on the table.
He consumed the entirety of the nachos while she played with her phone. He requested the bill, paid in cash, and left a 10 percent tip.
After sitting in deep discussion for an additional 20 minutes (samples of the conversation included her asking "Why did Dave Jones leave The Beatles for The Monkees?" and him informing her that his recent diet had kept him on the toilet more often than usual), they asked me if I would take a picture of them.
I discreetly switched the direction of the iPhone lense and snapped a shot of myself. I returned the camera and trotted off to the back before they could take a stab at another attempt to digitally capture yet another hellacious shift.