billdixoncomedy:

Note From Your Wait Staff

By Bill Dixon

Please Stop Dipping Everything On The Table In Ranch - You don’t need it. Why do you want your $24 steak to taste like buttermilk salad dressing? If the concern is simply you are afraid that you won’t meet your daily caloric intake with only an appetizer platter, a pound of fries, and the cheeseburger we bring you on a pallet jack, don’t sweat it; you crossed that finish line after the first gulp of milkshake. So go easy with the dip, slick.

Please Stop Asking, “How Spicy Is The _____?” - Asking once is fine. It’s when the waiter says, “I think they are a little spicy” and you reply with, “No no, but I mean, how spicy are they?” This is an exclusively subjective question that I do not know how to answer.

“Well madam, are you asking about how many BTUs the Buffalo wings yields? Have you ever been pepper sprayed? Have you ever had your tongue branded with a soldering iron? No, me either, but I would assume it is less than that.”

Your Kid Has Had Enough - I know you would really like me to refill your kid’s Coke but I think the 4th refill put him down. He’s rolling around the floor in a hypoglycemic death spasm. His eyes started drifting into the back of his head after he burned through the 5th side of honey mustard I brought him for his chicken tenders. Why don’t we switch to water or maybe a morphine drip or maybe- Oh, you just need more ranch dressing, right away.

 I Promise You, We Do Not Have That - People make powerful assertions about what the restaurant has or does not have.

“Yeah I’ll have a Mr. Pibb and my daughter will have a Mountain Dew: Code Red with no ice.”

 “I’m sorry, we don’t carry either of those things.”

“Well I got it the last time I was here.”

 I want to tell him, “Oh alright, you must have been the special customer the owner told me about! Let me open up the top-secret, velvet lined, Mr. Pibb humidor and grab you some from the owner’s personal collection. This is like a Mr. Pibb speak easy, just had to make sure you weren’t a cop.”

 First off, no, you didn’t have it the last time you were here because we, along with the rest of the world, have never had Mr. Pibb. You have to go to a bazaar in Calcutta to find that shit.

 Second, we don’t and will never carry Mountain Dew: Code Red because it tastes like embalming fluid and Kool-Aid concentrate. We also don’t carry it because we don’t trust any beverage with a colon in the title. It’s soda, not a Batman sequel.