We've done several posts dealing with all the reasons "Why Your BLANK Hates You." There was Why The Hot Dog Cart Guy Hates You (because you're just not paying attention enough), Why Your Sommelier Hates You (you're a cheap braggart and everyone knows it), Why Your Farmers Market Hates You (you keep messing up their pretty displays, and also you're still cheap), Why Your Barista Hates You (because they really don't want to hear about the novel you're writing) and Why Your Barista REALLY Hates You (because, apparently, they're all very bitter about Starbucks, and the fact that nobody will buy their novels).
The one really obvious one we skipped was "Why Your Waiter Hates You." And why did we skip that one? Because there is not enough space on the entire internet to encompass all the rage, frustration, gall and petty indignation that lives in the heart of your average waitron at Flinger's. I spent the first half of my career working in close proximity to thousands of servers, so I know what I'm talking about here. I've seen them get pop-eyed furious at a pen. I've seen them get angry with plates and floor mats. And none of those things even have the power to ask for split checks.
Thankfully, there are plenty of other people out there to describe the myriad resentments of those working in the front of the house. And some of them, it seems, had time enough to make videos...
"I had salmon here yesterday."
"No you didn't. Why would I lie to you?"
Perfect for Seattle.
It's like the internal monologue of every server ever. Or maybe the dinner rush at T.G.I. Friday's in a world where no one can lie.
This is why you should always look at the center of the table before asking for anything--including the bill.
And then there's this...
I might have made less money working as a cook. I might've had to work longer hours under worse conditions. I might've had greater opportunity to injure myself or others. I might've lost blood, sleep and brain cells to the kitchen and certainly dedicated a good portion of my life to making dinner for strangers who never knew me or appreciated my labors. But at least I never had to deal with the lemonade guy.
No one should have to deal with the lemonade guy.
Thanks to eater.com for the heads up on this one.