Feast or famine...

...Generally I encounter enough social ineptitude that I have plenty of fodder for this blog. Every now and again the masses seem subdued enough that I am forced to bore my readers with the details of my time in the gym, etc. However there are times when I have to choose which absurdity I want to share.

Last night a friend of mine shared a telemarketer story, with any luck he will choose to blog about it himself. On my way home I witnessed some pervert stretching his arms as far as possible in order to fondle the breasts of a twenty foot mural; I am not making this up.

I am opting for the customer who had the audacity to tell me "you work for tips, shut the fuck up". He left of his own accord, thanks to my boss who intervened on his behalf. My boss is a pretty good egg, in an industry with an incredibly high turn over, most of his staff has been with him in excess of 10 years. I think that says something.

I know it was in his (my boss) best interest to avoid having a murder in his very well established restaurant, so I don't blame him for rescuing this moron from me. For those of you who do not know me, I am no demure shrinking violet. My response was a very vehement "Are you talking to ME? Let me tell you what you can do with your tip, asshole. Nobody talks to me like that, and I mean NOBODY".

Don't assume that because I work in the hospitality industry that I am subservient or too stupid to hold a "respectable" job. I am not for sale, and your tip doesn't entitle you to abuse anyone. Crawl back under your rock before I hit you with it.