There’s a certain level of etiquette one expects when visiting a fine dining establishment — ah hell, when visiting any dining establishment. Most folks expect service with a smile, courteousness, good hygiene and maybe general awareness of what the hell they are doing. But how many times have you gone into a restaurant and have been pawned over by your server? Have you ever stopped to count the number of times they’ve gazed into your eyes or rubbed your back or dropped their pencil so they can look between your legs from underneath the table? What is this, a brothel?
Every now and then, you may get lucky enough [enter sarcasm here] to sit down and have a glass of sexual harassment with your meal. Never mind silly little things like germs, the common cold and oh, I dunno — swine flu! These days, waiters and waitresses are serving more than biscuits. They are serving lap dances! Sure, this may be fun if you’re a middle-aged man or woman with little to no sex life, or a young sleaze or skank who wants nothing more than to be groped by a stranger wearing only an apron. However to the common restaurant goer, water and bread will suffice. And we’re not talking dollar bills and body juices.
Most people can get beyond a little bad service. To some degree it’s acceptable to keep your guests waiting for 30 minutes or serve cold food or completely screw up an order…maybe even undercook your food until it’s practically raw. But when you think of the number of people your host has touched in a span of about four to six hours, things begin to get a little dicey. The germs that they’ve picked up from the backs they’ve rubbed or the hands they’ve shaken or the dollar bills they’ve collected in tips have settled onto your plate, silverware, napkins, straws and glasses, leaving you contaminated with someone else’s pervert juice. Let’s face it, now-a-days it’s probably safer to just walk into a restaurant wearing a full body condom. Though it may not be the nicest thing one can say to a host or hostess, when they ask if there’s anything they can get you, your best bet is probably to reply to them, “You can get the hell away from me!” But who wants to be rude? Just refuse to eat the food or drink the beverages. In fact, ask them to point you in the direction of the nearest faucet and you can drink the water straight from the tap. It’s probably more sanitary, anyway.
After giving it a little bit of thought, the servers are the forefronts of the restaurant itself. They are the faces of the company. Having said that, what the hell is going on behind the scenes? Are the chefs sweating in our food? Are they spitting on our sourdough? Are they sneezing in our salad? What are all those eleven herbs and spices, anyway? Who does a guy have to screw to get some answers around here? Well, I take that back considering that most of the restaurants in our pop culture today are fast-food f*ck-fests.
If you ask me, you’d do better just keeping your ass at home. At least there, the germs you put in your food are your own.
So the next time you go to your friendly neighborhood mockery eatery, be sure you equip yourself with enough sanitizer to kill all the germs that share the same breathing space as you. I wouldn’t rule out metal armor, but that could be more trouble than it’s worth, depending on how you look at it. It could be beneficial to cloak yourself with medieval armor if you put forth enough effort. After all, 90% of any effort is getting started.
Quote of the Week: “You’re probably a bad cook if you use a smoke alarm as a timer.”