The Waiter From Hell

It took me a lot longer than usual to drive out to Big Denny's Card Casino because the city of Barstow, in a major revitalization project, had closed off most of their surface streets while they upgraded all the cow crossings (your tax dollars at work).

Consequently, I was famished when I finally arrived. I decided to pass on Big Denny's "Four Star" buffet and try my luck with the seated players menu, which, in any event, could not possibly be any worse than his buffet. I got a seat in my usual Omaha game, but then two hours went by with no food server in sight, despite my frantic cries and arm-waving. Finally, completely out of patience, I shouted, "Service!" at the top of my lungs.

A moment later, a waiter with an annoyed look on his face sauntered up. "We do not raise our voices here, captain," he lectured me, wagging his finger. "Do you think you are in a barn?"

I gazed around at the dilapidated casino whose original use, in point of fact, had been to house livestock. "Oh, no," I muttered to myself. "I thought this was Windsor Castle." But I was too hungry to risk antagonizing this insolent cur. Instead, as calmly as I could manage, I apologized for my rowdiness and asked if I might see a menu.

"Here," the jerk waiter said, waving one in front of my face. "This is a menu. Do you see it?"

I closed my eyes and counted to 10. "Am I imagining this?" I thought. Aloud, I rephrased my request. "May I please read the menu?" I said carefully.

The jerk rudely thrust one at me, and I began examining it. The first thing I noticed was that there were no prices on the menu. "How can I tell what everything costs?" I asked in confusion.

"If all you care about is low prices, go down the street to Kmart," my friendly waiter sneered. "What you come to Big Denny's Barstow Card Casino for is a dining experience."

"Yeah, I bet," I thought. I began reading again. The food server began tapping his foot impatiently, and after about 11 seconds, rudely interrupted me. "Will you be taking all day?" he snapped. "Are you dyslexic or something? Would you perhaps like an interpreter?"

I fought for control. "Look," I finally responded. "Why don't you just give me a couple of minutes and then come back, OK?"

"Don't take too long," he huffed as he walked away. "Prices are subject to change without notice."

The menu wasn't too inviting, running heavily to such goodies as pig's knuckles and fried okra. Then, another half-hour went by. No sign of the food server again. I looked around and spotted him playing in a hold'em game two tables away. I walked over and asked, in as civil a manner as was humanly possible, when I might expect to avail myself of his services again.

"Soon as I get even. Don't rush me, colonel." Well, at least I had been promoted in rank; that was something. After another half-hour, he strolled back. "What's the catch of the day?" I asked.

He glanced down at my depleted stack of chips. "From the available evidence, I would say it was you," he cracked, doubling over in laughter.

I took a deep breath. "Very amusing," I said dryly. "Never mind the fish. What's the day's special?"

"Chicken."

"Is it free-range chicken?"

"Nothing's free here. If you want free chicken, find a soup kitchen."

I was near my boiling point. "Any chicken is fine. What does it come with?"

"Heartburn."

"Forget the chicken!" I screamed. "I'll settle for just dessert. What do you have?"

Finally, he seemed to be showing a little sympathy for me and was starting to become reasonable. "Well, we have a nice upside-down cake," he said politely.

"An upside-down cake? I've never had an upside-down cake before."

"Neither did we until one of our cakes fell on the floor and landed upside down," he brayed, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Look," I said ominously. "Quit being a smart aleck and just answer a simple question. What desserts do you have?"

Finally, my waiter was apologetic and contrite. "Please forgive me," he begged. "I sometimes get carried away. May I recommend our strawberry surprise?"

I was intrigued. "Why do you call it a strawberry surprise?"

"Because we'd be surprised if anybody ever ate it."

That did it! I went totally berserk. "Forget the fish! Forget the chicken! Forget the dessert!" I yelled. "Can you just bring me a cup of coffee without any more wisecracks?"

"Of course, sir," he said, suddenly all business. "Will that be regular or decaf?"

"Regular."

"Plain or French roast?"

"Plain is fine."

"Black or with cream?"

"With cream, please."

"Sugar, sweetener, or without anything?"

"Sugar, if you don't mind."

"How many spoonfuls?"

"Two."

"I'm sorry, we've run out of coffee."

As the waiter rolled on the floor, helpless with laughter, I jumped out of my seat and ran up to Big Denny. "Denny!" I shouted. "I've never been so mad in my life. Where did you get that idiot waiter? What does he think he's doing?"

"Who, Tony? Aw, don't pay him no nevermind. He t'inks he's some kinda stand-up comedian, an he's just practicin' so's he kin audition in Vegas."

"Oh, he's a riot, all right. But whatever he thinks he is, I don't think he's very suitable as a food server."

"Yeah, I t'ink yer right, Maxey. As a matter of fact, I been groomin' him fer a different type job."

"Which is … ?"

"He's gonna be our new director fer customer relations."