Why Cinco de Mayo is the Worst Holiday Ever
Okay. When you work in a restaurant that's open until 2am, you get a lot of drunk people. Even in a Chinese restaurant on days like Cinco de Mayo, when by all rights only Mexican restaurants should have to deal with them. Normally I don't mind so much, because they tend to be only mildly obnoxious, and are usually really really grateful to the people who bring them food. Except last night when they were all horrible and evil.
First, some crackhead lady passed out and we had to call an ambulance.
One guy hit me in the eye with a fortune cookie and didn't even apologize (it was an accident, but still. That shit hurt).
Three different tables of guys wouldn't stop calling me sweetheart and honey. Normally I get this occasionally and it really doesn't bother me. But when it's everywhere you fucking turn, it's just creepy and gross. One guy even felt the need to tell me "You know, when I say that, I really mean it. Like, from the bottom of my heart." Then he left a 21 cent tip.
But the one that almost broke me was this:
There's a table of four guys. One of them is screaming at his friends because he doesn't want Chinese food, but they all do. It's like 3am at this point, but we're still seating people because it's crazy busy. Finally, he settles down and I go to take their order. Then I get to have the following conversation with his friend.
Me: Hi, are you guys ready to order?
Guy: Do you guys have pizza?
Me: No.
Guy: What about burritos?
Me: No.
Guy: You really don't have any pizza?
Me: This is a Chinese restaurant.
Guy: Do you have any, like, Chinese pizza?
Me: No.
Guy: Could you order us a pizza?
Me: No, I'm sorry.
They finally order. When I bring out their food, the guy says (in a seriously irritated tone, like he can't possibly imagine why he's had to ask three times for this oh so reasonable request) "Can you please just order us a cheese pizza? I'll pay for it, ok?"
I tell him that I don't know where to get pizza that late, he snaps (in seriously the bitchiest possible tone you can imagine) "Well, figure it out!" and then just keeps eating.
At that point I didn't think I could possibly hate people more.
While all that was going on, Ryan was at my apartment waiting for me to get off work. He heard a bunch of loud drunk people walking by outside, then a huge smashing sound and people laughing. He didn't think too much of it.
Then this morning he left to go to work and found out that his entire windshield was smashed. Now I really really hate people. Especially drunk people. And that, my friends, is why Cinco de Mayo is the worst holiday ever.
Okay. When you work in a restaurant that's open until 2am, you get a lot of drunk people. Even in a Chinese restaurant on days like Cinco de Mayo, when by all rights only Mexican restaurants should have to deal with them. Normally I don't mind so much, because they tend to be only mildly obnoxious, and are usually really really grateful to the people who bring them food. Except last night when they were all horrible and evil.
First, some crackhead lady passed out and we had to call an ambulance.
One guy hit me in the eye with a fortune cookie and didn't even apologize (it was an accident, but still. That shit hurt).
Three different tables of guys wouldn't stop calling me sweetheart and honey. Normally I get this occasionally and it really doesn't bother me. But when it's everywhere you fucking turn, it's just creepy and gross. One guy even felt the need to tell me "You know, when I say that, I really mean it. Like, from the bottom of my heart." Then he left a 21 cent tip.
But the one that almost broke me was this:
There's a table of four guys. One of them is screaming at his friends because he doesn't want Chinese food, but they all do. It's like 3am at this point, but we're still seating people because it's crazy busy. Finally, he settles down and I go to take their order. Then I get to have the following conversation with his friend.
Me: Hi, are you guys ready to order?
Guy: Do you guys have pizza?
Me: No.
Guy: What about burritos?
Me: No.
Guy: You really don't have any pizza?
Me: This is a Chinese restaurant.
Guy: Do you have any, like, Chinese pizza?
Me: No.
Guy: Could you order us a pizza?
Me: No, I'm sorry.
They finally order. When I bring out their food, the guy says (in a seriously irritated tone, like he can't possibly imagine why he's had to ask three times for this oh so reasonable request) "Can you please just order us a cheese pizza? I'll pay for it, ok?"
I tell him that I don't know where to get pizza that late, he snaps (in seriously the bitchiest possible tone you can imagine) "Well, figure it out!" and then just keeps eating.
At that point I didn't think I could possibly hate people more.
While all that was going on, Ryan was at my apartment waiting for me to get off work. He heard a bunch of loud drunk people walking by outside, then a huge smashing sound and people laughing. He didn't think too much of it.
Then this morning he left to go to work and found out that his entire windshield was smashed. Now I really really hate people. Especially drunk people. And that, my friends, is why Cinco de Mayo is the worst holiday ever.
Not all fellas that say "sweetheart" and "hun" are creepy though. I promise