Good Morning Sons and Daughters of Perdition,
I want to acknowledge those folks in Texas and now Florida dealing with the aftermath of Harvey & Irma. We mountain folk pray for your quick recovery!
Being frugal this weekend, I spent the majority of my time at my studio and tried nursing a couple of VT’s while watching a little football and generally maintain a low profile. This became increasingly difficult as one of my associates was hell bent on making an ass out of themselves by harassing the new bartender.
Brittany seems like she does a good job but was never fast enough for my good friend, so he constantly harangued this well-intentioned woman for her sluggardly pace. To be fair and to put this in its proper context, nobody, I mean nobody drinks beer at the pace my friend Joe does. How in the hell could a new bartender even fathom the liver flooding rate of consumption possessed by my good friend Joseph?
My point is, (and I’m getting there) it shouldn’t be an excuse to become abusive with new bartenders or anyone else for that matter! I’m using outrageous levels of beer swilling as an example, but it can be anything! Wait people, grocery store checkout people, the group one hole ahead, the car actually doing the speed limit in front of you, the much maligned postal worker, and the myriad of daily chances to be patient that either go civilly or turn into ugly incidents.
I like the place because it’s reasonably priced for a couple of eggs and toast and serves excellent coffee. I like to read the Sunday paper while sipping good coffee and had settled in to browse and catch up on Irma’s current position.
There were a few other people there, but it didn’t seem like my waitress was overwhelmed by the three or four tables being occupied. The service was fine until I got to the Op Ed section and needed a refill. I looked around to see I was the only customer left but my waitress was nowhere to be found.
I finished George Will’s column and still had no coffee in my cup. I’d been patient but my routine had been disrupted and now was irritated. I got up carrying my mug and looked into the door behind the deli counter to see my waitress on the phone talking to what I assumed to be a sister or girlfriend given all the giggling.
I held up my mug pointing to it clearly indicating my need for a re-fill. Rolling her eyes she put her hand over the receiver and said, “I’ll be there in a minute”. I said, “it’s been 20 minutes deary.” Doing away with pleasantries and in a snotty tone, she hissed “I’m on the phone Sirrrr”.
Once again illustrating to the two or three of you still reading this scumber laced provocation how patience will always take a back seat to impatience.