Service Industry Workers Need Therapy

, , , | Right | October 28, 2020

It is around 9:30 pm and the dinner rush has died off. My two remaining tables are eating contentedly, and I am clearing a table when I spot my son’s therapist across the restaurant seated at the bar. Naturally, I go to say hello.

As I’m talking with her, another bar patron leaves his seat to head to the restroom and when walking by us attempts to be funny by admiring the quality of the food left on the dirty plates I’m holding.

We don’t have bussers and we’d had a small late rush that prevented me from clearing these particular plates for perhaps an hour, so the partially eaten hamburger and fries are at least an hour and a half old.

The therapist and I exchange confused glances, and the dude, not getting the reaction he wanted, proceeds to pick up a fry from the dirty plate, take a bite, chew, and then spit it out on the floor.

He thinks he’s hilarious.

I’m flabbergasted, grateful that my mask is hiding the befuddled incredulity resting on my face, when this a**hole reaches down, picks up the spit out fry bits, returns them to the plate I’m still holding, and WIPES HIS F****** FINGERS ON MY SHOULDER.

I’m really proud that all I say is:

Me: “Are you SERIOUS?!”

I can assure you that my tone is not playful and contains not the slightest hint of reciprocity for his antics.

As I’m now clearly angry, he starts rubbing my shoulders to smooth things over?

I remove myself from his grip by taking three large strides so I was now standing in front of my bartender (to be a potential witness should I need it) and turn back around to square off against this a**hole and let him know in no uncertain terms:

Me: “You will not be touching me again.”

Fortunately, either reason or the need to void himself got the better of him (I suspect the latter) and he turned and went on back to the restrooms.

I walked back to the therapist, who couldn’t believe what just happened.

Me: “The things you have to put up with in the service industry.”

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