I Don’t Know Why I Bother

Some people think we do it for tips but, actually, it helps to pass the time. A bit of chat, a spot of banter. Otherwise the evening just consists of being shouted at by the chef, taking long, mumbled orders for gluten-free, hold the mayo, can-I-replace-the-potatoes-with-spinach…Dull.

So I try and inject a bit of humour. Tease the customers, flirt with the older ones. There was a couple in there tonight older than God. But they seemed to really appreciate the restaurant, loved the seafood and I thought I could help enhance their evening – I took them for fans.

Me (clearing plates): Was everything good?

Old Lady: Oh yes, I just loved the bouillabaisse. Fabulous.

Me: I’m glad you enjoyed it. Did it make your evening better knowing that Rick Stein is sitting two tables down?

Old Lady: Who?

Me: Rick Stein.

Old Lady: Einstein? He’s dead isn’t he?

Me: Erm, Einstein is dead, yes.

Old Lady: What’s he doing here then?

Me: Not Einstein. Rick Stein.

Old Lady: A Philistine? Oh, charming! I didn’t come here to be insulted and if you think we’re paying a service charge when you’ve –

Me (hastily): No, no, madam – RICK Stein

Old Lady: Rickshaw? No thank you dear – we drove.

I don’t know why I bother.

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Alex Jury

Alex Jury

Alex Jury is a retired cowgirl, now working as a copywriter in London. She loves working with words but misses all the lassoing.
Alex Jury

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