Food Service

If you ever want to find out what type of an asshole someone is, take them out to eat. There is just something about restaurants that brings out the worst in people. They might be the nicest, bestest person in the world, but you'll see what they are really made of when you take them for a fat steak and waffle fries. Watch how they treat the waiter or the waitress, even the hosts, or if they demand to see the manager. You'll soon see what hidden darkness lives inside them--especially if the food comes out wrong.

Seeing as I've worked in food service before, both as a pizza delivery guy and a cook at an Old Chicago, I've seen and dealt with some of the larger peckerheads on the face of the earth. And honestly, most people aren't all that bad; it's those few dingleberries that make the whole ass stink. But my past week of cafeteriaesque service, made me more pissed than the three bears after they'd discovered Goldilocks. It got to the point that I couldn't even smile at the nice folk walking through the line. I had pre-judged them all and decided that they were greedy black holes that could never be sated. Then there were those that tried to take multiple deserts, pick through the pre-assembled salads just to steal a few extra tomatoes, and pester for the last of the sausage links--after they'd already had two to three helpings.

Granted, people need to eat, and buffet style foods promote gluttony, but holy crap, people, show some respect. Calm down when something goes wrong. People make mistakes. Seriously, even a bukkake chick is more well respected than wait staff--at least there are rules for participating in the former, but like Smokey the Bear says, "Only you can prevent forest fires." And by that I mean, "Only you can respect someone else."

In a world that's becoming increasingly more alienated, it's hard to argue with one's further retraction and hermitization, seeing as the majority of today's interactions involve an insincere asking of "How are you?" No one cares outside of your small community of family and friends, and even then, f & f might not care either. People will always need to eat, and until they figure out a way to deliver food via a complicated air pipe system--like the cool things at bank drive thrus that whoosh and hum--we'll have to deal with someone. I guess I'm just re-stating the age old advice that more than a few of us need to take to heart: Don't be a dick.