‘Young Professionals’ ye say….
spooky bar face was spotted on the bar on Friday the 13th...spooky
Friday was the 13th and we had a table of 13 reserved for dinner.
Crikey.
As it was it all went swimmingly well. Nobody died, not a constant worry I should add, and nobody made threats or had to be warned about current and future conduct. So that was a win for sure. Twenty four little hours later however and the 13 had been replaced with a table of 17 ghastly young professionals. I know they were young professionals as one of them found the need to point it out about thirteen hundred times. Thankfully the gods of waiting had seen fit to ensure that I wasn't taking care of them. I'm afraid I would have strangled one of them with their Ralph Lauren Polo shirts. Take the pretentious little darling who managed to get themselves into a right sweaty pickle over the time waited for a bottle of sparkling water.
"I've been waiting for aaaaaages for a bottle of sparkling water, do you think there is any chance?", said the uppity little twat to Waiter Chum the Younger and then followed up with, "Can you run along and get me my water?" And then rolled her eyes to indicate that you just can't get the staff.
I had to be restrained after WCtY told us members of the waiting staff that were loafing with little or no intent at the bar. She laughed it off and carried on as she intended - beers, then wine then soft drinks. Heh, legend. After that their snippy little remarks were ignored and treated with contempt. The queer thing though was as each of these petulant little outbursts was ignored they never followed them up.
Like the popped collar mummy's boy who insisted we bring him a dish of garlic and capper aioli. We didn't and we didn't tell him that we don't do it either yet five minutes later he never asked about his missing condiment. It was as if just being loud and obnoxious was enough. It seemed to me that if they had been shouting rude words instead of condiments, side dishes and drinks we don't stock they would have just been as happy.
Sigh, no doubt when I have my stress based stroke or heart attack in a few years one of these massive egos will have to save me.
I'd rather shit myself and die on the gurney in a hospital hallway than have one of those mooks brag about saving my life whilst out playing golf.
But the best was yet to come. A chap called me over.
"Yeah, hit me up with the wine list my man"
My man? Wine list? Hit me up? Oh I'll hit you up you two penny wank sock. I'll hit you up until even your own mother doesn't recognise you.
Or
"Certainly sir", and off I trudged to fetch him a wine list. Now, our wines are listed on a few pages after the food etc on the main menu itself. So as chummy already had his food I opened the menu at the first page of the wine saving him, and I, invaluable seconds in choosing his tipple.
He stared at the menu and ran his finger up and down the red wine listings. I waited patiently behind him as he had requested, pen poised.
"Uh...", says yer man after about two minutes, "...this is the red wine list. Do you not have a white wine list, like eh, what's that about my man? That's crazy!!" He turned to his half shaven monkey faced friend beside him and waving his index finger around his ear made the international sign for crazy loco.
I said nothing. I was enjoying the moment and wanted to ensure I had maximum eyes on me and chummy.
With a polite cough I reached forward towards chummy's menu and flicked it to the next page.
"Your white wines my eh...man."
Red faced? I'd say. If my stress related death had struck me at that moment I can assure you would have died happily.
Young professionals?
My arse...
Arrogance comes before a fall....down the back stairs with a psychotic waiter grinning over you...
Sounds like Viz’s Student Grant and Co. finally grew up and qualified in their top two percent.
“Oh like seeeriiousllleee Hillary, there was like, no white wine list…FAAACK.’
hahahahahahaha that’s it exactly…..!
posers
no question Cat….
Friday the 13th, a table of 13, getting called MY MAN, at least you had the last laugh innit.
I did….for once…reverse luck…!
The types that boast of their ancestry but too thick to realise they are inbred.
hahahahaha!
pity you can’t thwack them on the nose with a silver spoon. i think the ‘demands’ portion of the competition is just to see who can ‘out-snob’ the others… the more ridiculous the request? the more ‘young professional snob street cred’ they get…
as in “My man, bring me a plate of Zebra testicles, fried in the lard of a baby seal, with a side order of fertilized duck egg, will you?”
and when you fail to deliver they say nothing….very off bunch and no mistake…!
“My man” good Lord didn’t think anyone under the age of 70 used that phrase!!
ideas well above their stations and no mistake….
How was the tip?
beautiful….service charge…..nice
Friday the thirteenth should we be afeared ?
Manuel has took a razor & shorn off his beard.
He struts around the tables with bare faced cheek
While punters coweringly grovel & occasionally squeek !
Manuel, master of all he surveys
Shorn chin reflecting the setting suns rays !
Do you dare to look down your nose at me ?
If only you knew what it is to be free !
arf! Love it…..!
Cocks the lot of them.
flaccid ones at that…..!
A horse-whip,my dear boy,a horse-whip is the only way to deal with these frightful Johnny’s!In my day we would have soon had these cads hopping about with the jolly old horse-whip whistling about their wee bandy legs!
But,make sure you have plenty of arm room,nothing worse when applying the old whip in a confined space,one is reduced to taking dashed chip-shots at their quivering underpinnings.No good,no good my dear fellow,just letting the rotters of lightly.You must put a lot of beef and vim into each swish,that’ll learn them manners!Tinkerty-tonk.
cads and bounders for damn sure….!
“Arrogance comes before a fall….down the back stairs with a psychotic waiter grinning over you…” Amen!!!
say it loud!
M’eh enough of the odious young professionals, what about this fella?
Faking a seizure to get out of the tab! . . . . . . eek.
oh dear….and that’s Wednesday’s post sorted…cheers fella!
What with that and The Ginger Prince and the Berb doing their thang, it’s not been a bad night has it?
PS the bill is in the post.
Just give us the address again! ;o)
666 Fillet Towers….heh
Scholes was immense eh…Berbasnacks could’ve done better but not gonna whinge about it…yet…it was a nice wat to start the season…