Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Money in the Bank?

D-E-A-D! That's what work was looking like today. Had me feeling like, why did I even come in? But it's all good. I made my little bit of cheese here and there. I had a funny type guy at one of my tables tonight. I guess he was an ex NBA player or some ish. Anyways, he's out with a young lady who looked like she was scared to death of speaking above a whisper in front of him. He was pretty forceful. He sat down and was immediately adamant about a server- ANY server, changing the channel on the TV facing his side of the restaurant, to a Hawks game. When he saw that we have Direct TV and not basic cable (where you could see the game local) he was just exasperated.

"Just turn to a game. ANY game."

Fine. So we did. For the rest of the evening he was just real funny style. I can't describe it to regular folk unless you've ever worked in the food service industry. Everytime I came to the table, he was talking- either to 'ol girl or to somebody on his cell about his big plans in the works or whatever weird shit he was talking about. I didn't really hear the young woman speak until they were about to leave. It was like he wanted everyone to know that he was a "somebody." Before his meal, he was waiting on 'ol girl at the bar, and he demanded that the bartender change the channel on the TV facing him. Oh brother.

As soon as they sat down and I did my little spiel, he's like, "Where are you from?" I wanted to roll my eyes, because I can anticipate the question and I never see the point in discussing such minor details with guests unless I feel comfortable with them.

I tell him NY.

"Yeah, you know, I used to live up there." Like he wanted me to recognize his glory days on the court or where ever he was doing whatever he was doing up there.

"I can tell, It's just that you said 'y'all'." I told him that when I was home, I said 'y'all' I just don't have that drawl with it. I never did. He's not even really listening to me though, I could tell by his comment after:

"Yeah, you can't avoid that Southern [slang]. It just sticks to you once you're down here." I wanted to suck my teeth and tell him that I rep Brooklyn to death but my man and my daughter are from the A, so Southern doesn't bother me. Ass. Anyways, I sound like I'm giving your boy a hard time, so let me sum it up with this: This grown man, 'bout 6'4", 240, orders the roasted boneless chicken breast and says, "Ima need them to cut my chicken up. I don't want that big piece just sitting there." Right.