the bitter waiter: Taking the hint

Once upon a time, when my self-esteem was lower, I said "yes" to every date, usually to my own detriment and displeasure. One guy (let's call him John, because that's his real name) remains my answer and cautionary tale whenever I'm asked to describe my worst date. He was rude, awkward, negative, and confrontational (you know....like me at work, except not awkward). Despite being a complete asshole during dinner, afterwards he insisted he come back to my apartment for some boom boom, and I curtly and distinctly said "Fuuuuuuuck no."

After the date, he tried following up repeatedly by text message. He reached out on MySpace (yes, it was that long ago), Facebook, Twitter, and voicemail. I didn't mince words conveying my lack of interest the two times I responded. And yet he persisted for almost a year after the date.

Cut to many, many years later (last night). My section was unexpectedly full for a slow Monday. John entered the lobby, along with a textbook-definition-of-average-looking date. They were about to be seated in someone else's section, until he spotted me. He told the hostess he wanted to wait until my section was available. He waived at me. I gave him one of my many "Who the fuck are you?" looks and pranced off.

Although they could have been seated immediately, John and his average date waited almost 30 minutes to sit in a booth in my section. The date looked a little annoyed, but he also stared blankly into space as if seeing a ceiling for the first time.

"How've you been??????" John nearly shouted when he sat down.

"I'm so sorry, do I know you?" asked in a disingenuous effort to manage his expectations for our limited interaction.

"I'm John? We DATED..."

I stared at him for a second with a look that did not suggest warmth.

"I thiiiiiiink we might have gone on one date, a long time ago," I said. "What may I bring you to drink?"

"Are you still doing that little blog about waiting tables?"

"No. Our features tonight are a lamb shank, housemade spaghetti, and..."

He smiled and wrapped his arm around his average date. "I think we'll need a minute to look at drinks. I know what happens when I get this one drunk," he giggled. His average date smiled a dim smile at no one in particular. I performed an exaggerated yawn and pranced off.

John and his average date ordered two cheaper entrees and split them, along with two glasses of house wine. Just as John was ordering a second round, hinting at the lackluster lukewarmth that awaited the average date in the sheets, my manager gave me the hand signal that meant I was cut for the night. As John was mid-sentence, I pranced off, had the manager transfer John to the closing server, and started my sidework. John summoned me back.

"Were you going to tell me you're done for the night??"

"Not really," I replied. "Josh will be right with you. Have a great night."

"But I didn't say you could leave," he said.

"Yeah, it's not really up to you?" I replied.

"But don't you want my...tip?" he asked.

"I do not want your tip," I replied. And with that, I pranced my final prance, out the door and hopefully never to lock eyes on John again. But, should he come back, I'll be ready.

Comments

Glad to see that you are still posting.
You've got the balls to say some of the things I would love to. And I am in HR: translation: I get the entitled, spoiled, etc jerks who somehow think that they are always right and I need to bow down to their demands.
I will have to get hammered in your section some time

Posted by: Lara | May 17, 2019 at 12:07 PM