Jumping On A Grenade(ine)

My husband and I have lunch with his parents every Sunday at the same restaurant. A lot of the staff knows us a little, particularly because, as creatures of habit, our drinks are always the same. Usually, one of us will just rattle off the drinks for the entire table. One Sunday, we get a new hire as our server.

Server: “What can I get you to drink?”

I point to the person associated with each drink.

Me: “[Cola], diet [Cola], cherry [Cola], sweet tea.”

Server: “Sorry, we don’t have cherry [Cola].”

Husband: “They just make it at the bar.”

Server: “No, they can’t. We don’t have cherry [Cola].”

Husband: *Slowly* “Yes, I know it’s not in your soda machine, but the bartender just makes it with [Cola] and grenadine at the bar.”

Server: *Annoyed* “Sorry, we can’t do that. We don’t have cherry [Cola].”

Husband: *Trying a new tactic* “Okay. Can you just order me a Roy Rogers from the bar?”

Server: *Suddenly perky* “Of course! I’ll be right back with those drinks.”

We are served our drinks; my husband even gets his “Roy Rogers.” Later, a manager we know comes by as the server is checking on us. Seeing my husband’s glass a little low, he asks:

Manager: “Did you have a cherry [Cola]?

Server: “No! We don’t have cherry [Cola]! He ordered a Roy Rogers from the bar.”

The manager looks temporarily stunned.

Manager: *Slowly* “A Roy Rogers is a [Cola] with grenadine. It’s just a cherry [Cola].”

The server looks shocked and angry and splutters at us.

Server: “Well, you could have just said that!”