Among the many odd jobs I’ve done during my rise to the very middle of the pseudonymous blogging game, I once spent a summer in college waiting tables. At an Olive Garden. In Indianapolis. It was every bit as thrilling as you’d imagine. I hope I never have to do that again, and so should anybody who wants good service. If you’re one of the people I waited on, I sincerely apologize for my incompetence.
But it did make me appreciate what a tough job waiting tables is. Now I try to treat restaurant servers the way I’d want to be treated if I still spent all day bringing food to complete strangers.
Unlike this anonymous jerk in Iowa. WHO-TV, Des Moines:
Okay, yes, she looks like she got hit by an exploding cotton-candy machine. But if you walk into a place called Zombie Burger, what are you expecting? They sell “Goremet burgers” with names like “the Dead Moines” and “the Walking Ched.” Hell, I’d be disappointed if my waitress at a place like that didn’t look kinda weird. And she seems like a genuinely pleasant young lady. It’d be one thing to stiff her on the tip for being rude or screwing up your order or something. But as long as she doesn’t act like an SJW, there’s no reason to punish her for looking like one.
The next time you go out to eat and your server isn’t to your liking, do what the rest of us do: Wait till she leaves, then trash her and hope she doesn’t hear you and spit in your food. Then leave her a decent tip, because she’s a human being. Or he. Or both. Or neither. You don’t know her/his/its life.