Tales from the Pit - The Things People Say: Part I

Here's the beginning list of things that people say which I love to hear. By which I mean I detest with an absolute loathing passion of hellish rage and ridiculous fury. I seem to have misplaced my medication so my anger is currently unchecked, motherfuckers.

#1: ASKING FOR ITEMS WE DO NOT HAVE / ARE YOU MENTALLY RETARDED?

Two customers recently finished eating their meals and came up to me for refills on their drinks. They were two men, one being old white man and and his middle-aged white friend. As I handed them back their drinks, the old man leaned on his cane and said to me:

"So, when are you guys going to have ham?"
"Well, sir. We had ham for awhile but it took too long to get rid of and we had to throw it away at the end."

I inwardly sighed, recalling this debacle. Somehow, it took us 3-4 weeks to get rid of a leg of ham, proving that our investment in it was ill-advised at the time and ridiculous. I get 3-4 requests for ham a week on average. Now couple that with the fact that we serve several hundred customers a week. I think the point's been made but I digress.

"Really now? How long did it take?"
"About 3-4 weeks."
"Well...until you get ham, I won't be coming back. When you do get ham, put a sign up"

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open about to retort with something in regards to his mother and a quick death but luckily, prudence caught me instead.

"Eh, don't worry. I'll be back." His companion remarked, rolling his eyes slightly at the old man's outburst. They both left the restaurant, the old man plodding along.

VERDICT: Old people love ham. It seems their taste buds are so degraded that it's all they can taste. And seriously, fuck ham.

***

I was sitting at the register and reading a book when a customer came in. As I glanced up, I noticed he was a new one. Medium height, small build, and black, he looked at our menu for several minutes and glanced around the restaurant. I stood at the register and waited for him to ask for his order. However, after two minutes, I grew tired and impatient.

"Is there something I can help you with, sir?"

Surprised, he mumbled "Y'all don't have any friedkrandeens?"

"...What?"

"Y'all don't have any fried okra and greens?"

"Nooo..." I replied, somewhat surprised at the question.

"Oh, okay, it's cool. Thanks." He left quicker than when he had come in.

VERDICT: Fried okra and greens? There's a reason stereotypes exist.