I didn't feel like cooking, so we went out for dinner to Bob Evans. It's kid friendly, the hubby can have breakfast at night (which is a dream come true for him), and if they're happy, I'm happy.
Unfortunately, as we're eating they seat a trio of old hags right behind us. First they start off rambling on about their various medical issues (thank you for your hemorroid update as I chew, btw), then the Bitchfest 2006 is under way.
One crone didn't have enough ice. The other had too much. The coffee wasn't hot enough, the pop tasted flat, there were water spots on the silverware, one of the chairs was wobbly, they took too long to add ice to their drink, they took too long to take their order. They special ordered every damn thing. Then the food came- one didn't have enough gravy, the other didn't want her bread toasted, the other's food wasn't hot enough. The waitress finally gave up and the manager proceeded to serve them. Well he did everything wrong too. Still not enough gravy. The other biddy wanted mustard not mayo on the side. The oldest one wanted them to find her sweet pickles as she couldn't stand to eat regular dill pickles. The napkins weren't absorbent enough. They didn't bring enough cream for the coffee. Still not enough gravy. They brought out untoasted bread, but it was REGULAR bread and she wanted texas toast, but not toasted. So they brought that out, and then she complained that her food was cold.
Situations like this are why I only lasted three days in waitressing. If I ran into these witches when I was waiting tables back in college, I probably would have dumped their food on them, broken off matches in their door locks and slashed their tires (not that I'm endorsing such behavior- I've just calmed down over the years).
My husband approached both the manager and the waitress and told them they were being much nicer than he would have been, and they've been a bunch of sour pusses from the minute they walked in.
Unfortunately, as we're eating they seat a trio of old hags right behind us. First they start off rambling on about their various medical issues (thank you for your hemorroid update as I chew, btw), then the Bitchfest 2006 is under way.
One crone didn't have enough ice. The other had too much. The coffee wasn't hot enough, the pop tasted flat, there were water spots on the silverware, one of the chairs was wobbly, they took too long to add ice to their drink, they took too long to take their order. They special ordered every damn thing. Then the food came- one didn't have enough gravy, the other didn't want her bread toasted, the other's food wasn't hot enough. The waitress finally gave up and the manager proceeded to serve them. Well he did everything wrong too. Still not enough gravy. The other biddy wanted mustard not mayo on the side. The oldest one wanted them to find her sweet pickles as she couldn't stand to eat regular dill pickles. The napkins weren't absorbent enough. They didn't bring enough cream for the coffee. Still not enough gravy. They brought out untoasted bread, but it was REGULAR bread and she wanted texas toast, but not toasted. So they brought that out, and then she complained that her food was cold.
Situations like this are why I only lasted three days in waitressing. If I ran into these witches when I was waiting tables back in college, I probably would have dumped their food on them, broken off matches in their door locks and slashed their tires (not that I'm endorsing such behavior- I've just calmed down over the years).
My husband approached both the manager and the waitress and told them they were being much nicer than he would have been, and they've been a bunch of sour pusses from the minute they walked in.
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