Plates of food

Hi, My Name Is Amber, and I’ll Be Disliking You Tonight

Can I start you off with some drinks? Would you care for a glass of wine or a bottle of beer over your head?

Thanks for coming out tonight! Have you ever been to our restaurant before? When? Was it more than two weeks ago? Do you remember what it was like? Have you ever been to any restaurant before? Was that before or after you lost the ability to make a decision? Well, let me just go ahead and pretend you’ve never been waited on, since you’re mostly staring at the table and may not recognize that I’m talking to you. MY NAME IS AMBER. WELCOME TO AN EATING PLACE.

Here’s our drink menu. I guess we failed to make it easier for you to find with the gigantic picture of a mai-tai. Our house specials are listed on the board that you ignored when you came in, but I’m happy to repeat them four times, since it appears you could be prematurely deaf. This is our dessert menu, which also has pictures to help you understand words. A lot of people really like the chocolate brownie torte bombe. If you enjoy getting it together for once, then I suggest you have that first and then come back when the caffeine’s kicked in.

Does anyone have questions? If so, write them down and compare them to our menu, which probably answers them. Just to answer the most common questions:

  • Yes, all dressings and sauces can be served on the side, because we are a restaurant that has dishes
  • Yes, I am purposely forgetting to bring you straws
  • No, our broccoli is not made with nuts
  • Our bathrooms are in the back, just like in every restaurant you’ve ever gone to—oh! Sorry, I forgot that this is a totally new experience for you
  • Yes, our steakhouse has one vegetarian burger—glad you’re here!

I’d be happy to bring more kid’s menus if you’d like to sublimate your family disagreements into arguments over the best way to color a rainbow. That might be better than me interrupting you in the middle of an uncomfortable silence. Actually, how about we make a deal—I promise not to interrupt your conversations if you promise not to ask for something when I’m about bench-pressing another table’s weekly calorie consumption. Just kidding, you’ll do that anyway.

Are we ready to order? I’m saying “we” because otherwise the sarcasm in my tone is unmistakable. Would you like any starters? We used to say “appetizers,” but found that customers kept trying to switch to Frenglish. Alright then! I’ll put in your orders and we’ll have that out just as soon as you look annoyingly toward the kitchen. That’s definitely how it works here.

Okay, who had the salad? Don’t be shy! Surely someone remembers? Ah, okay, here you go…enjoy the memories it brings back of ordering it literally two minutes ago. Now the rest of you will be served randomly.

How is everything? I don’t fucking care.

All done? Anyone need a box for the food they hated or their two remaining fries? Whatever you do, I am going to judge you. And is this all on one check? Perhaps I can split it into geometric tangents for you, re-solve Fermat’s last theorem, and then kill myself. On second thought, I’d like to stay alive and see what tip you’ll give me. I’ll bet it’s 15% of what you would have liked to have spent.

Thanks for coming! I hope you enjoy your weekend and come back on alternate Tuesdays, when I’m not here. Cheers!

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