I don’t hide it from them. I’m not nice to them. Really, ask anyone that I don’t like and they’ll tell you that they are aware of the fact that I dislike them. I dislike people who believe that the world revolves around them. I dislike people who can’t think outside of the box. I dislike people who believe that rules can never be bent. I dislike people who believe they will get to heaven but anyone who doesn’t agree to their religion goes to hell, therefore….they are holier than thou. I don’t like mean people, although I can be one if pressed. Parents who don’t pay attention to, or discipline their children, I dislike tremendously. I am a bigot in the sense that I dislike everyone I dislike. I try very hard not to judge anyone on their race (although one nationality is pressing my buttons a lot lately), religion or sexual orientation, individuals have to give me reasons to not like them.
Back at the restaurant there were 2 separate couples that frequented the place that I disliked. One was an older couple and one was a younger couple. I had the unpleasant opportunity of waiting on each couple about every 3rd week. Both men thought the world revolved around them and were crabby all the time. The older woman was as crabby as her husband and the younger woman, although a brunette, was a dumb blond. I’ll tell you more about her later. I’ll refer to her as “stupid-girl”. I know, it could just be me but I am not favorable to crabby, the-world-revolves-around-me people. Therefore, each and every time I had to wait on them I pretended to have never seen them before. That used to really piss them off. Keeping in mind that I’m sure they were positive that the restaurant only existed for their pleasure, I should KNOW that they’ve been there before and I should KNOW what they want…well and probably especially because I had waited one each couple several times previous. Also because they frequented the restaurant, they expected to be treated like royalty. Sorry, I’m not that easy. I also have never felt the need to inflate already inflated egos. I’ve never been afraid to forgo a minimal tip for self satisfaction.
On any given Saturday I could have a conversation with either couple that would be something like this:
Me: Welcome to the Timberlodge. Have you been here before? Are you familiar with the menu?
One of the 2 men: I COME HERE ALL THE TIME!
Me: Well then I guess you’re familiar with the menu, what can I get for you?
One of the 2 men: I WANT THE USUAL!
Me: Okay, what would that be?
One of the 2 men: YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT! I COME HERE ALL THE TIME!
Me: I’m sorry, I wait on several people each and every day. What can I get for you today?
One of the 2 men: I’d like blah, blah, blah
Me: How would you like that done?
One of the 2 men: (this is where their fist would hit the table) YOU KNOW HOW I WANT THAT DONE!
I could keep that up forever. Soup or salad? What type of dressing. Potato, wild rice or veggies? Which type of potato? Beverage? Dessert? Coffee? After dinner drink? Each and every question I asked would make each of these men irate, it always gave me a warm fuzzy. That and I could contain my gales of laughter until I got back to the alley. Right, ya gotta have fun at work where you can get it.
Working in a restaurant and at book store for years I can tell you that a lot of parents would rather have a conversation with an adult than deal with their children and therefore the children were let to run wild. My daughter, Shannon, became a hostess at the restaurant I worked at when she turned 16 and was surprised watching children running wild around the establishment. She’d come to me with giant eyes and say “we NEVER would have done that!” She was right. My children simply weren’t allowed to run wild in public and I made it a point to curtail any conversation I may have been in to pay attention to my children and make sure they behaved. I worked with a woman who, way back when, was in charge of the kid’s section @ B&N and she once had a woman walk her daughters to that section of the store and deposit them while she took off and hung out elsewhere in the store (fyi, you wouldn’t believe how many parents do that). The daughters looked to be about 3 and 5 years old, after a while one of the little girls was in obvious need of a restroom. My co-worker asked the little girl her name and paged the mother to the kids section. The mom showed up and asked what the issue was, my co-worker informed her that her daughter was in desperate need of a bathroom and the woman looked at my co-worker and asked “what? you didn’t want to take her?” Where was Bill Engvall that day? I would have liked to have seen him, instead of just present it with “here’s your sign”, I’d have liked to see him hit her with it. I dislike parents who expect the world to do their parenting for them.
Every weekend there were women who would meet up in the cafe at B&N. Between them they had somewhere around 7 children. The moms would gossip and gab and let the kids run amuck… and their kids were awful. The kids would take out hundreds of books and not put them back, the kids would knock over displays and run away, the kids would open things that were in cellophane so they shouldn’t be opened until purchased. The kids would also touch base with their moms to tell them something cool or ask about something and the moms always chased them away. Sad but true. So…watch that happen enough and realize that the parents have no interest in what the children have to say and then one just feels free to threaten the children. Or, actually, get bossy. Watch the kids take out 75 books and attempt to leave them all over the floor and I’d tell them to put them away. They could complain to their moms but the moms just shooed them away. I could watch them run full speed through the store and knock over a display and I’d stop them and tell them to clean it up. Again, they could complain but the moms didn’t want to listen. Yes, I very much dislike these parents.
The race that pushes my button currently used to use the book store as a babysitter. They’d send their kids to the book store after school and it was up to the children to entertain themselves for 3 or 4 or 5 hours until the parents picked them up. What’s not to dislike? A dozen children between the ages of 8 and 14 in a retail store for that amount of time with no adult supervision. Not a good situation for the children or the employees.
Anyway, back to stupid-girl that frequented the restaurant with her boyfriend. She was a single mom whom I’d seen occasionally at the book store as well, without boyfriend but with an 11 or 12 year old son. With her boyfriend at dinner she was a silent, adoring girlfriend who always appeared to be as smart as a box of rocks. With her son at the book store she appeared to be a silent, stupid, single mom who appeared to have as much common sense as a sock . She would let her son run wild while she buried herself in the romance section. I just didn’t like stupid-girl on many levels. I walked into the store, The Limited, one day and guess who worked there, right, stupid-girl. As stated, I”m not nice to people I don’t like. Stupid-girl approached me as if we were best friends. She apparently recognized me but couldn’t place where from. Leave it to me to look at her as if she was an idiot. That stopped her in her tracks. She asked me if I’d worked with her previously and I assured her that I hadn’t. She then looked a tad embarrassed. At that point I walked away. It was okay with me that she felt like an idiot. Yep, I can be mean. I tried on a gray jacked and she ran back over to me and told me that it looked wonderful and let me know she had the “perfect” shade of pink to go with the jacket. I looked at her and then I looked at the shirt I was wearing which was the exact same shade she was trying to sell me and then I looked at her again and yes, I did look at her in the “you are a moron” manner. Apparently she was bright enough to understand that I was looking at her in that manner and she walked away with her tail between her legs.
I was a complete male-basher through most of my 30’s, therefore any male who approached me in a bar was instantly on my “do not like” list. I wasn’t a nice person but then again I don’t think that any one of them was worth being nice to. That whole era I don’t feel bad about. Being mean to jerks in bars, sorry…I kind of liked that. I met a good friend of mine by being an ass to an ass one night. Back then every Tuesday after work the restaurant crew would head to Champp’s after work, have a few beers and play bingo till the bar closed. One night I walked in and instantly there was some guy in my face asking me who had laid the diamonds around my neck. In my favor, no one had ever asked me that and I was taken a little off guard, give me a break…not the usual pick up line, so I asked him how he knew they were real. Right, color me stupid. What he was asking was if I had a husband or not. Hindsight is best. His answer to my question was “my daddy is a jeweler” so basically that’s a “sleep with me sista and you might get a little somethin’ somethin’ out of it”. Okay…on the “do not like” list. Blew him off and caught up w/my friends at the bar, sat down and ordered a beer. Shortly after jewel-boy walked up behind me and put his arms around me. He asked me a few questions, to which I gave my usual rude answers as I tried to pry him off of me. I don’t remember the whole verbal exchange except for the last round when he told me that I needed a “real man”. My response to that was to ask him to let me know if he knew any “real men”. That was the point where I was finally able to shake him off of me, physically, and apparently that was the final turn off for jewel-boy and he finally wandered off. It was at that point that I noticed that the little guy sitting next to me was laughing his ass off. He was laughing his ass off to my responses to jewel-boys questions. Apparently I used to be incredibly sarcastic. I can still be sarcastic but not incredibly. I think I miss that.
Again, this is too long and it’s late and I need to wrap it up. Bottom line: there are people I dislike, they have to give me reasons for disliking them and then…I’m just not nice to them. Wait, then…sometimes I’m mean to them.