Every now and then I'll fucking boot a tray of plates and watch as they hit the ground and shatter.
Every now and then these minimal mistakes happen. Fuck, shit happens every day in every profession.
Am I sorry for these mishaps?
No! I don't give a fuck!
Am I sorry that--in my manic haste to do 1,000 things at once--I spilled your precious martini all over the table, and watched as it flooded the shit out of your precious iPhone?
No! Because--like I said--I don't give a fuck, and I certainly don't have any sympathy for you.
Because....
Silverware, glasses, plates, and breadcrumbs belong on the table; iPhones don't.
I mean, customers all too often regard their waitstaff as mindless, stupid fucking assholes to begin with anyways, so I don't understand why they would ever trust their $650 dollar piece of equipment on a table where the exchange of food and drink is all too often being made.
Besides, what kind of an arrogant asshole thinks it's okay to have his phone stick out like a malignant tumor? Apparently he is okay with the rude, pompous message that he is sending to not only his company, but the fellow dining customers in the restaurant. And, don't think it's okay to answer that son-of-a-bitch in the middle of the dining room.
I mean, there's a reason why bathrooms exist apart from the dining room; and that's because NO ONE wants to deal with your shit. So, piss off somewhere else.
Thanks
