Mum and "Bernard" took me out to a "2 star" restaurant to "cheer me up" last night. The waiter was a smug jerk-off who had this look on his face that said, "I'm just doing this to get through graduate school and you don't even register enough on my radar screen to warrant contempt." He did say, "Very good" whenever any of us asked for anything, including a new water glass that had the remnants of somebody's ultra-red lip gloss. Then when I ordered a cappuccino to go with dessert and awkward conversation, "Shawn" (yes, Shawn with a 'w' and with an 'sh' and with 'a' and 'n') said, "Is this a special occasion?" For those of you unacquainted with fine dining, this is the question smug waiters ask to feel superior because the subtext of this question is crystal clear: "You clearly don't belong here so you must be celebrating your correspondence course certificate." "Yes", I answered. "I have a metal hand now. Hooray!" He made a face and the service was much less chatty thereafter. What a dick head.
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