Getting ridicule for dating someone ugly
My question is simple should I have tried kissing earlier? You need to follow your heart and this time your heart is telling you he just isn’t the one. The chef tells me in minute detail about the two soups and when I get to the table I can only remember one of the soups. Yesterday I went to take an order for a table of three realizing too late that when I got there I had forgotten my notepad and I now I had to memorize everything they ordered including appetizers, main courses, wines by the glass, and who ordered extra mushrooms and what kind of cheeses they want on each burger (cheddar, blue and I can’t remember the last cheese varietal but I’m sure its not cottage). In fact, one of the guests I served tonight sent a text to Mr. The person replacing me doesn’t start until Friday. Apparently there was a mistake made on the schedule I printed up. I have never taken a party with more then four people at a table. The chef tells me in minute detail about the two soups and when I get to the table I can only remember the ingredients to one of the soups.
I feel a tad bad for him and I don’t know what to do next time I see him. Signed, Kisses (are not always sweeter than wine) Dear Kisses, Perhaps you shouldn’t have kissed him if you thought you weren’t attracted to him. Don’t worry I’m sure you’ll find your Prince Charming soon. So like if you don’t like him no more you gotta make up for the kissing and hugging too soon shit. I am nervous so there is more almost vomiting when I get to the register to place my orders. Meantime the owner is at the next computer and he is placing his order with the ease of a dick lubed with KY Jelly (I’m not good at analogies) and I am staring at the screen wondering where the hell is the “extra onions” button for my burger order for the woman at position three. Dickhead (the restaurant owner’s affectionate nickname his employees have given him) is going to ask me what is taking me so long to place my order and I have visions of green vile bile exploding from my mouth, ala Megan Exorcist, all over the bastard’s wanker polyester polka-dot shirt. Amanda is a sweetie and she doesn’t make me feel like I am the worst waiter in all of the Napa Valley. PH stating what a great meal he had and also mentioning what a fun and personable waiter I was. You know, the schedule he wrote and I copied into the computer and then printed it. I have never waited on more then two tables at time. I completely forgot to ask the Chef about the specials.
I notice, as I walk away, that everyone is switching plates around. Don’t they know I flunked Algebra II in high school? The consequences can’t be any worse then the 90-minute water boarding I got last week for violating manager rule # 3856. Of course if you look closely, you can also clearly see that I was scheduled to be the manager tonight, but that entry was now crossed off. Meantime the owner is at the next computer and he is placing his order with the ease of a KY Jellyied pee pee (I’m not good at analogies) and I am staring at the screen wondering where the hell is the “extra onions” button for the burger order for the woman at position three. Poopyhead (the restaurant owner’s nickname his employees affectionately have bestowed on him) is going to ask me what is taking me so long to place my order and I have visions of green vile bile blasting out of my mouth, (‘ala Megan in the Exorcist) all over the wanker’s polyester pink polka-dot shirt.
After I clear the dishes from the table they order a latte and a cup of chino and some English tea to go with their one order of molten chocolate cake. I drink coffee black and have no idea what a latte is (which should make my career at Starbucks a tad bit of a challenge). But luckily the computer has a button called: “Split Check” and I allow the computer to do its thing. all I can think is – what could I possibly have forgotten this time to make him ask me: Naturally, I go into panic mode. Just as I find the “extra onions button” MPH turns to me and coldly asks me what am I doing, and oh crap how I hate swallowing almost puke, and I answer him by mumbling something about concentrating on my order showing what a good employee I am, which I am not, and I walk away from the computer hoping I got at least 75% of the order for table 12 correct. I forgot to give them ketchup and mustard for their burgers. I think I got the burger orders right (all the correct types of cheeses, who got fries and which fries were to be extra crispy and who ordered their burgers rare and who ordered them well done).
And then the relationship ends often in a very abrupt way or because of uncontrollable or unchangeable circumstances.
What I have seen over and over again with clients is that they meet someone who has all the qualities that they have dreamed about, and they are so happy when they are with that person.I’m thinking about writing a blog called: Dear Stabby. Stabby’s a guy with a persona that is a cross between Archie Bunker, the father from: Shit my Father says, and Andy Rooney …. He’s basically a dirty old curmudgeon with absolutely no social graces, says whatever comes to mind, and yes, he probably lives in a trailer. BTW, this sample from Dear Abby below is actually a real email a woman sent me two days ago from on line dating service. Enjoy: Dear Abby, I’ve met a few guys on an online dating service. OOOOOooooooo OOOOOohh – way to go Dave – bring in those big bucks. As he goose-stepped away to fire the waiter, he looked at me and pointed to a piece of paper on the bar.Here’s how it would work: I would copy and paste a question and reply from a Dear Abby column (or make one up) on my blog. One I felt some attraction for but thought it might be best to take some time to get to know him. I am a lousy waiter because I am pushing 6 0 and I can’t remember the specials or the soups when I go to a table and they ask me: “What are the specials and what are today’s soups? This paper, written in his chicken scratch, (which would make any prescription writing Doctor proud) is apparently next weeks waiter schedule and I am to enter it into the computer. oh please God please make her nice and cute and skinny (they don’t call me Shallow Dave for nothing you know). PH and I work on the schedule again and when we finish he nonchalantly says: “… It was my fault, he tells me, for not catching the (his) error because that is what a good manager would have done. Last week I was “demoted” from my exciting an hour host – or – assistant manager – or – floor manager – or – manager (the owner of the restaurant has introduced me to our guests using all of those titles, so I never know who I am, which might explain my schitzo personality lately) to being a part-time waiter.I’d post the most saccharin sweetest and over the top nicest replies from the very vanilla Ms. After a few dates we went from hugs to kisses, but sadly there was nothing there for me. ” I fake it by saying: “We might have just sold the last soup, let me check with the chef, I’ll be right back.” Of course no one else is in the restaurant and these are the first customers of the evening, so I suppose I am not fooling anyone. I wait on five tables tonight and much to my amazement, I do not make a single mistake. Dave the Waiter Yesterday I was still the kinda sorta manager at the restaurant. I can’t read most of his writing but lo and behold – one item does catch my attention: Amanda: Restaurant Manager -works Monday Tuesday Friday Saturday and Sunday My name no longer says “Manager.” It says . I’m not a rocket scientist but this does raise an eyebrow considering this is news to me!!!!!!!!! The restaurant gets busy and a few hours go by before we can continue with translating his Rosetta Stone of waiter schedules. oh by the way, I hired a new manager and you are now the waiter – except for Wednesday and Thursday on her nights off.” Let’s look up in the dictionary the word “insensitive” Whoa it says: That was how Sunday night ended up. PH finally went home and I stayed to close the restaurant wondering aloud if I’m crazy or what. PH want to talk to me about immediately last night? Friday will be my 1st first night as a full time waiter. Getting demoted was actually a good thing because who the hell wants to be a restaurant manager for an hour when I can be making ! It’s hard to believe that only a few years ago I was making over 100K a year. I am a lousy waiter because I am pushing Six O and I can’t remember the specials or the soups when I go to a table and they ask me: Of course no one else is in the restaurant and these are the first customers of the evening, so I suppose I am not fooling anyone. Really, not kidding, I just changed it from Dear David to Dear Abby. Getting demoted was actually a good thing because who the hell wants to be a restaurant manager for an hour when I can be making minimum wage PLUS TIPS. Horrible 2012-Mayan-esq Doo OOOooo OOooo OOOooo OOOooo OOoo M! PH’s request to chat with me is similar to the feeling that comes over a teenage boy caught throwing a rotten tomato against the blackboard in U. History I Class and being sent down to the pot-marked ashen-faced Ichabod Crane look-a-like mean as sin Vice Principal of Discipline’s office. My brain is apparently in defense mechanism mode, as it wafts in and out of reality trying to prevent me from experiencing my reoccurring hallucination of seeing a giant fork stuck in Mr. Thinking of a giant fork stuck in his foot for some reason has a Zen-like calming effect on me. Pay attention Dave, this could be serious, after all you could get demoted again – if is possible to get any lower in the restaurant’s food chain – pun intended. PH is discussing something we did together last Sunday. He told me to do this right before he marched off to fire one of our waiters for violating waiter rule #6,253 from section 14 found on paragraph three in our bi-weekly updated employee handbook.You also may have said, “He brought out the best in me! He or she did bring out the best of you, but it’s YOUR job to keep it going.They fulfilled their spiritual agreement with you by attracting you with their awesome qualities to reflect to you what you are not seeing about yourself.Therefore I’ve decided to do what every other 59-year old slightly balding, little Buddha bellied, gray – haired man would do to prepare for a job interview: buy copious amounts of anti-aging creams, research “Hairclub for Men” commercials till AM, practice sucking in my stomach, and looking up on the Internet how to improve your resume writing skills. In the past I’ve interviewed many perspective employees when I owned my own business. Being an interviewer is cool – being the interview-eee pretty much sucks. Because our hero doesn’t have a gal pal, a significant other, a NSA babe-o-rama, a cougar (that would be interesting considering I’m pushing 60). ) joined hiking clubs, and visited several cemeteries (don’t ask). I’m 59 years old and I haven’t had a pimple since, oh like, the 9th grade. This pimple was something out of a Rob Zombie movie. When I arrive the PIC woman looks at me in sheer contempt that I am even breathing let alone talking to her and says as icily as humanly possible: This comment sets off a chain reaction in your humble narrator: FEAR followed by almost throwing up! They are PIC for the restaurant and that means they are going to Email, Fax, Snail Mail, Text, Federal Express, Pony Express, Wire Tap, Telephone, Two Cans and a String and Telegram Mr. I am praying I can remember them while I am in a Scotty “Captain we need more power” Warp Speed # nine panic mode. I reach into my apron for my notebook and pen to write everything down. I was in theater years ago having a few leading roles and could easily remember long soliloquies. Basically all the resume improving courses out there teach you to lie as much as possible. However, being on the receiving end of an interview is another matter entirely. I’ve gone on several interviews since my forced retirement from Mr. Stay tuned for a few examples coming your way in my next blog. But the bottom line, I just couldn’t strike up the nerve to ask anyone out on a date. I wrote a profile, put up a few pictures and paid my fee. It certainly couldn’t have been my recent pictures (1997 pictures are recent aren’t they? Next I sifted through the tens of thousands of emails I received from beautiful young women from all over the world. She returned my email asking her to contact me with a cute little note of her own. The Zeppelin was located on the side of my nose and it grew so fast and enormous that it blocked 83% of the vision in my left eye. Sally and I have a pimple the size of Cleveland on my snout. PH when they get home to crucify my very existence. No matter what I do from now on for the PIC it won’t matter. Incidentally, stimulates a condition I have called tinnitus (an extremely high-pitched ringing in the ears – honest I really have this condition). Now I can’t remember the plot of a movie immediately after I watch the movie. You hit it off right from the start and get butterflies in your stomach every time you see them. When you can get an hour of sleep and still feel high on life the next day.Contrary to what romantic comedies may have us believe, this is actually fairly common and not necessarily a bad thing.