Wednesday, November 7, 2007

turkey, naming conventions, contest


being a regular makes me uncomfortable. like a pervert. especially when you're in that floaty period between person who comes in there a little too often and the person whose own mother didn't attend but has a cadre of bodega workers weeping and throwing themselves on the casket at his funeral.

there's something about walking in the door, night after night, and asking someone to make something for you that you should be capable of making yourself that just feels imposing.

it's like,

"oh great. here comes the girl who orders a turkey burger, pays, accepts her purchase and politely thanks me. EVERY SINGLE TIME. piping hot cup of christ cocoa, WHAT'S WRONG WITH HER??!"


i'd say about 4 out of the 5 guys know me. but they all look alike. and I CAN'T GAMBLE. because then i'm a racist. also i might get the wrong order.

and i can't ask them their names, either, because that's mad patronizing. i had an old boss who used to do that. get everyone's name, the minute he spoke to anyone on the phone.

"hello, who's this? desiree? hello desiree. i'd like three calzones..."

DON'T ASK DESIREE HER NAME. JUST ORDER THE GODDAMN CALZONES. dudes used to do that when i worked at bennigan's. go practice your dale carniege elsewhere. this is not the russian tea room. just eat your jalapeno lobster steak poppers, make a cell phone call, and take a giant shit in the men's room. i'll be in the back smoking pot with the dishwashers if you need me. wait. what's your name? arnold? i'll be in the back smoking pot with the dishwashers if you need me, ARNOLD.