One table all afternoon, a deuce, they arrived at 11:00, wanted to know when we closed, I gave them an emphatic "2:00!". And they respect that, drink hard and are wrapping things up at 1:30 when...
...I walk into the dining room and find J***. J***, the owner's best friend (not J*** the nephew's best friend), he owns a national company worth probably $150 Million gross per year. That's another story...he's standing in the middle of the dining room loudly talking on his cell-phone, he's inviting a friend for lunch...
...we close in 20 minutes...
FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!
Still, be polite, seat them, as civil as possible, he's important, he's the one that cost G*** his job, he should really be assassinated or run over with a truck on a dimly lit night, the world would be a better place, but so it is with many of our customers...the arrogance of privilege...
A thin smile, wait while he dithers helplessly upon his phone, contacting dates, appointments, inwardly seething...
We're not closed even 5 minutes when his date shows up. They will be here all day, the 3 hour break we're closed over lunch, another 3 hours into the evening. Fuck them. They'll tip 20% and think themselves the best customers on earth, they'll get free bottles of wine, dinner for free (after paying for lunch), after dinner shots and drinks, it's ridiculous. I tip 20% and arrive, dine and leave while the restaurant is open. I get nothing for free. These people, the rich people, they expect everything for free, look surprised when they find a drink they ordered on their bill, somehow they thought it was all free...too often it is...
J***. We had a manager here once, Steph****, older blonde slapper, rumour had it that he offered her $1000 dollars to sleep with her...apparently she never accepted it...
...but slept with him nevertheless, when asked about him refrained about describing his skills as a lover, rather focusing on his soft skin...
...the skin of someone who'd never done a days work in his life. She wouldn't know this, to her it was remarkable, no callouses or corns, bruises, knotted muscles, merely 5'2" of milk-fed flab and flesh...no remarks about his prowess, nonexistent I would guess, people who pay for things, all things, expect that money is the answer, the final reward, of course it isn't, but they know no better, meet a few and see...
And he's confided a little too often about how people like him are the prey of younger women who wish to take his fortune for a ride, never wanting sex for sex, these are not the people you turn to, after all, and he's not appalled by this but rather impressed by it, all the sycophants and admirers that would be his for a few thousand of his hard earned dollars, we, the proletariat, who fuck to fuck, to live, as a skill, wouldn't understand this fuck-for-profit, for endless alimony, palimony....
He's right there. He's in a different world. I'm not impressed, but I feign the requisite sympathy..."Poor you" I tell him, and he finds me sincere...
He's spiritual, "Zen Buddhist" he tells his dates, I've overheard, the comfortable, complacent spirituality of someone who's done well, has no cause to question, he's wealthy, the ends have justified the means, the world is just, just accept it...
He's decided to run for premier, he'd be a good premier, right? Better than what we have, he could do it, what we need is a good businessman, politics is business, we'd all vote for him, wouldn't we? And we feign the requisite support....
fucker. Fuck that. Whatever cause he stands for I'm opposed, and there's not a single opinion he could opine that there wouldn't be a reasonable voice to oppose. But this is Alberta, fucked-up home of the ignorant, and in my job I can only just nod and agree...