May I serve you?

Just when I thought that I'd seen all of the rude people that this world has to offer—kazoing!! Into the restaurant—that probably had ten empty, clean, ready-to-go tables—she sweeps and says "Someone clear that table. I don't want to sit over there and hear kitchen noises and gossip." Had it been my restaurant, I might have seated her in the restroom or, better still, in the parking lot. But, already seated, I just couldn't wait to see what happened next.

The server should have been given a gold-star-sized tip—right then and there. She promptly cleared and wiped the table, set a place, plopped the menu down, pulled the chair out and then said "Someone will be with you in a minute to take your order." Now, we all know that "with you in a minute" is just a manner of speaking—right? Being polite and neighbourly—just a minute kinda minute? No one ever really comes back in "just a minute"...what a perfect world that would be, eh? The customer indicated that a minute certainly wasn't enough time to decide how she was going to "upset her tummy today" and she would appreciate having five minutes to peruse the menu...and "no more than that". Snap, snap! Begone with you, oh lowly cleaner of tables.

I actually moved to the other side of my table so I wouldn't miss "just a minute" of any of it. And when approximately five minutes had passed (give or take a nano-second), the server returned to the woman's table—poised to take "the order". Apparently, the customer had spent those five minutes assessing her "location, location, location" situation and wanted to move to more suitable real estate. Indeed, Hag Woman, wanted a table that was clearly occupied and began needling the poor server to move the group already seated there—right where she deserved to be sitting. The server tactfully convinced her that she could sit at another table.....and believe me, the customer was not happy .....and made sure that everyone got an earful of "how it is" with restaurant workers.....of course, she deserved better since she was actually a local person and, most obviously, not a "hockey family" like the people at her table of choice.....didn't "they" usually eat at the rink or a burger place.

YIKES!!! And, bless us everyone and pass the rolls.

Where the H E double hockey sticks do people like Hag Woman come from—is there a slimy, smelly, mouldy crack in the fabric of the universe that is the breeding ground for self-important, rude, people-like creatures? AND, don't get me wrong, it isn't just women who crawl out to sprinkle the world with their frass. I really, really wanted to ask Hag Woman why she thought it was okay to treat people like so much doggie-do. And, why did she feel that it was okey-dokey to snap her fingers, tap her water glass and crank on? I wondered if she might have been happier just rooting around in her backyard for something more suitable for din din? It was obvious, by the look on the faces of the staff and by the hush that fell over the place, this wasn't her first infliction/visit..... ‘cuz she knew all about pushing buttons and which buttons to push for every, single person working in that place. BUT, the staff weren't pushing back. I was fascinated by their restraint—breathtaking and stressful to watch.

The rest of the Hag Woman Event went down pretty much as I expected. She wasn't ready to order for almost fifteen minutes and then dithered about her choices, waiting until they were committed to paper, then changing her mind and ordering something that wasn't even on the menu. When her food arrived, she insisted that it wasn't what she'd ordered and sent it back—clucking about the "kind of people who work in restaurants" while looking around to see if everyone else agreed with her assessment of the situation. Her feeding frenzy progressed with much snapping of fingers when she wanted more attention and clinking her glass when her trough was empty. And, when the food chain had been completed and her bill arrived she loudly protested the amount and firmly stated that she wasn't about to leave a tip because she'd been treated so poorly. Snort, oink, ouch! Gracious, she wasn't. Her exoskeleton wasn't made of kindness. Obviously, Hag Woman didn't revolve around anything—she was the centre of her cranky-arse universe and put on a stunning performance. It was meant to be remembered...the elderly, overdressed, self-centred, rude Hag...sent here to push and shove.

When the door of the restaurant finally closed on her miserable behind, someone actually laughed out loud.....no applause. Maybe she heard it. Ha!