It's one of those things you hope never happens
to you. You've seen it happen to others and you always thank God that
it wasn't you. Maybe you've even seen the movie where bullies go around
doing it to nice people.
Sadly, this weekend it happened to me.
I got served.
Never have I been so humiliated in all my life. It's the kind of
soul-crushing experience that you're never able to shake. It stays with
you like an albatross tied around your neck. Like Hester Prynne,
everyone knows your secret shame. You've been served.
And in public of all places! I mean, if i'd been served where no one
else could see, that would have been one thing. But you figure you go
to a place like Ruby Tuesdays and you'd be safe from that kind of
life-sucking embarassment. You're not, though. And apparently no one is.
So I'm sitting there, debating over getting the Southeastern Texas
Style Cheeseburger Extravaganza or the Vernon Parish Louisiana Chicken
Fried Tuna Sandwich, and out of nowhere this lady comes over and says
"Hi I'm Cindy and I'll be serving you today!". Then she gives me a
glass of water and says she'll be back.
So not only do I get served RIGHT THERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SEEMINGLY
ORDINARY RESTAURANT... but she's coming back! To do what? Rub it in?
Gloat? Do some sort of sexually explicit dance towards my general
direction that's only meant to belittle me and bruise my already
fractured ego?
I call over the manager, who immediately asked me if there's something
wrong with the service. Service, he says to me! The nerve!
I told him that I don't care how he polishes up the word with his fancy
suffixes. Service, servitude, serv-a-lama-ding-don g... whatever. I'd
been served by some high-strung high school hottie and now I was
expected to PAY them for this?
The manager looked perplexed and wandered off. So I did the only thing
I could do. I took the water over to the waitresses station, sat it
down in front of Cindy, yelled "Who served who NOW?! Woooooooo!" and
ran like hell. My revenge was sweet, if only for a moment.


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