Addendum.

When I cashed out the bill for the table next to them on the patio -- the only free tables were on the patio, people usually don't eat out there super-late, but one or two did then because it was so busy inside because of graduation -- I asked the (college-aged) (Asian-American) girl if she had heard what was going on at that "tea service" table.

And, she seemed non-plussed, and was like, "Well, at least you now have that story."

I also texted that incident the next day to my one (half Thai) professor friend, and it set her off, since tea at a (Thai) restaurant really just is a cup of tea with a teabag, she said, not some big elaborate colonial production like you'd get at (Chinese) restaurant that's trying to please the (British). Like, she just automatically hated those people, for their cluelessness and their entitlement.

As for me, I'm increasingly recognizing that it's a really bad sign when someone tries to order something without even looking at the menu, since it's like they have something in their head and want it without seeing if it corresponds to anything that we can offer them, but they also don't necessarily also have the basic ability to describe whatever little f*cked-up demand thing is lodged in their heads and they're envisioning.

("A tea service.")

When someone sets off down that path in the future -- like asking for a pot of tea and we don't have pots of tea -- I'm going to have to stop right away and describe what we do have and what I will bring out to them if they order it, so I don't get trapped in that stupid f*cking off-menu loop where people want us to bend over backwards for what is essentially a labor-intensive demand that they pay like five bucks for, in some stupid little them-up-there-and-us-down-there bossgame that they have going on in their head ("We want...", with the royal "we"!), where they want to waltz in and push people around while paying no money for essentially bullsh*t.

I also also realized that in these types of situation, that my eldercare personnel training kicks in and I tend to automatically engage with such customers like early-stage dementia patients, where I speak in short declarative sentences establishing the situation and then asking them for a delimited next-step response ("I don't know what a tea service is. Can you please tell me what you specifically need?").

Like, these types of people are so stuck-up, that they probably sense that they're being treated like a dementia patient, and that doesn't help anything at all.

The Saturday around graduation:

1) It's so busy that we look up and the restaurant is packed and everyone is served and the kitchen is closed down and we had all forgotten to put in our order for our free staff meal that we get every shift, so the owners go to call in pizzas for us, but I say I won't wait around, don't count me in, I'll just go eat something at home after we're done.

2) During that same very late period when it's like nine-thirty at night and like every seat in the restaurant is filled and we've been working for like six hours straight without a break, a (black) family comes in and decides to order take-out and wait for it outside at a patio table, and then while they're out there they accost me, and without looking at a menu, the (very picky mom lady) is like, "Can we get a pot of tea?".

And, I say we don't have pots of tea, just cups where we bring out teabags, and she's like she wants one, and the husband wants one, and then one of the kids pipes up and is like, "Can I get one," and I'm like, "Okay, three cups of tea," and then I have to establish with hem that they have already paid their bill and I need to open a separate check and close it out again for them, and that also they want the tea like for here, and not to-go.

So, when I have like twenty demands on my attention, I go run in and I go all the way to the back of the restaurant to cash out their bill and get the tea cups and set that out and the thermos too, and then I have to get some other stuff ready, and then when I ferry it all out to the front of the restaurant, I drop off the tea only to realize that I forgot the thermos, so I run in and bring that back out all the way from the back of the restaurant, and then the lady is like, "Can I have a lemon, and sugar?"

And, I'm like, "Ma'am, we don't have lemons here, but we do have limes," and I ask if they need anything else, and she's like, "We need a tea service," and I'm like, "Ma'am, you said you need sugar and I can bring you a lime, what else specifically do you need," and she's like, "We need a tea service," and that's all I hear and she can't answer my question, which I repeat, so I duck in and get the sugar holder and bring it out, and then I run all the way back to the back of the restaurant in the kitchen for a single lime slice, and then I bring it out, and she's like, "I need a spoon."

And, that just visibly sets me off, because like what the f*ck, and I'm like, "Okay, I can go get that for you, is there anything else you need," and I really want to say, "Lady, it's nine-thirty at night out on the sidewalk at a Thai restaurant in [city name removed], [state name removed], it's not Sunday at the Ritz-Carleton here," but I bite my tongue, and then when I come back, I put the spoon on the table without really stopping and then do something at the next table, and the husband just gives me a look like **I'm** the problem here, when they opened up a second bill for something that we don't really have and they don't even half the self-critical faculties to be able to describe what they want and see if it matches up with what we can even possibly give them, all for a bill of like five dollars.

And, later after they're gone, the little plastic bill holder is there, and there's two cents on top of the bill.

(Sometimes people do that as a f*ck-you, I've heard, since if you leave nothing, maybe the waiter would think you had merely forgotten to leave the tip.)

So, since I didn't want the bad energy, I just picked that little black plastic bill holder thing up, and I flung those two pennies out into the middle of the nearby street.

Like, what the f*ck was wrong with those people.

"We need a tea service."

Get over yourself, f*cking f*cked-up lady.

The Friday around graduation:

1) I get in like five minutes late for my shift, and the restaurant is packed with all of these tables that had been pulled out, and the owner seats me down with this high pile of print-outs and has me unwrap and stuff a bunch of new big plastic menus that he had bought.

2) A(n older) (white) man at a six-top when it's still early asks if I moisturize and use conditioner, and I say, yes, actually I do, moisturizer was one of my New Year's resolutions and a few weeks earlier my one friend had asked me if I used conditioner in my hair because it looked good and so I made sure to use it the previous night so I looked good for the rush of business that we were sure to get, and it was nice that someone noticed.

"This guy's a keeper!" I told the table, as I hustled off to go do something else.

3) Back by the back water station, there's a large table of like 7 or 8 and they're waiting for people, and like one of the last two people to arrive is like this (tall) (big) (older) (six-foot five) (white) guy who not only has to pull his chair out because he's big, but also has his chair pulled out extraordinarily far out from the table on top of that, too, which in the tight quarters keeps us from accessing the water station to fill up glasses to bring to all of the new tables.

"Excuse me sir," I say right after I ask him to scoot his chair in just a touch, "Would it maybe be possible to perhaps switch chairs with that lady over there?"

And, he looks up at me and he's just angry, and is like, "Then why did you put a chair here in the first place?!", and a lady from across the table hisses, "Honey," and then when I leave the water station like a minute later, I can see out of the corner of my eye that they're getting up to move and change places.

4) Lots of moms wore outfits in the school colors, like with a dress in the conservative color, and the "pop!" loud other color as an accent, like mixed into the pattern or as a purse or something like that, just all very coordinated.

One (skinny) (pleasant) (bespectacled) (South Asian-American) (STEM grad student) who I recognized and who I think I had bantered with once before was in with his parents and he said that he had brought them in because I was a good waiter, and his mother was very pleased when I asked about her outfit that was like that, and she said, yes, she had planned it that way.

Her purse was very loud, but it was also very cool.

5) After I'd been there like six hours and we're closing soon, I see a (Guatemalan) kitchen worker who's been working all that time, too, and it was the first time that we had seen each other all shift, we were so busy and stuck at our separate jobs in different parts of the restaurant.

6) One of our last tables of the night is a large table of (Latinos) from the local big city who were in for an MBA graduate -- I always ask all of the tables, "Do we have a graduate here?", and then ask what degree -- and the one (thin) (older) grandmother is just immaculately put together, with great-looking glasses and tasteful jewelry and a very elegant and understated dress.

And, I tell her and her daughter the graduate's mom that she should win an award for the best-dressed customer of the weekend, since it looks like she's someone from Manhattan who's into fashion.

"Your kids should know that grandma has style," I was like, and I meant it, and the grandma laughed and looked very pleased.

It was true!

Escalating contact with the flirtatious undergrad.

So, like a month ago on a Friday early evening the one (half Indian? half white?) flirtatious with a surprisingly deep voice was in with his friends, and were sitting the four of them up in one of the tables in the front window.

And, I chatted with them a bit and asked them if they had any big plans for the weekend, and one mentioned golf.

And, I filled their water for them, and one of the one guys was like thanks, and I gave one of my standard chit-chat line responses and was like, "No problem, it's important to hydrate," and that same guy just looked at me and was like, "Hydrate or die-drate."

Anyhow, like twenty minutes after that, the table opposite of them left, and since I had to wipe it off and I was in my nice fitting khaki jeans, I made sure to position my backside in the one undergrad's line of sight like five feet away from him in the direction that his face was, and then I reached around far back on the table as I was wiping and got myself into a posture where I stuck it out a little, and I shifted my weight from one cheek to another, but subtly, so if he was watching, he would think it's inadvertent, since it wasn't showy at all, just subtle.

I mean, because, why not?

Like, if you're going to the hot daddy waiter at the (Thai) restaurant on the prairie for someone, you should act like the hot daddy waiter at the (Thai) restaurant on the prairie for someone.

Then, when they paid, they all paid separately and I was the one to run their cards, so I figured out his name and began googling him, rigorously.

And, he's just less than my half my age and isn't even twenty-one yet, and he's in the local business college, and he's (Hasidic Jewish) with a(n Israeli) father.

Like right away I felt bad -- I worked ass for him when it was nearly Shabbat! - but then a bunch of other stuff clicked into place as well, like how the first time he was in for a salad he was asking a lot about substituting fish for shrimp, and how since then when he's been in he's been ordering shrimp or extra shrimp with everything, like adding extra shrimp into some fried rice with chicken in it or whatnot, or getting fried rice with double the shrimp for a small surcharge.

Like, I've met him right when he's in the process of trying out forbidden meats, and he's also overcompensating and moving a lot into that direction, it seems like.

I was texting my one friend with the cat, and she said the Hasidic thing where he was involved a lot in years past might be a conservative Judaism influence from the Israeli father, and "he might not be that into it."

And, I texted her a picture I had ripped from some public Facebook page of him when he was like a senior in high school, and she was like, "He's cute."

The town he's from and his college friends playing golf recreationally also signal money, too.

I've only seen him once since then, and it was a big table on a busy night, and when he ordered he said something about being in there a lot, and "do you put cocaine in the food," which seemed more of a comment for his friends or whatnot, like something someone in a business school would say in front of people, though who knows, maybe he was trying to be the big man and impress me.

It's hard to tell.

A demanding customer the other day...

 ...who was this (squattish) (50-something) (white) woman with (mildly frizzy) (unconditioned) (long) (brown) hair and (slouchy) tits, and who was either (cheap) or (autistic) or both, and who was in at the (Thai) restaurant where I work now with a (tall) (pale) (long-haired) (white) guy in a black t-shirt and a grey baseball cap, who I recognized from being in there before:

- she wants more lettuce with the lettuce wraps, when she puts in her order; and

- she is surprised when there are four pork dumplings, and not five (and so I tell her that they come out as four, and the vegetable ones are five); and

- she says the cucumber salad is too sweet and she wants more cucumbers in it (and when I tell her we can add more vinegar, she says no, add more cucumbers or take it off the bill, and then when I add more cucumbers and bring it back to her and then I'm at the next table doing something, I hear her tell her companion that that's better, a whole cucumber costs a dollar); and

- she wants a side thing of cilantro brought out for their curries; and

- they use a coupon to pay; and

- they sit at their table long, long after they pay, and I have to tell them that the place is closing in ten minutes and I need to close down the patio so I can lock up the furniture out there.

. . .

As I told my one (sound guy) coworker, I was surprised that they didn't ask for a stack of napkins on the way out.

Though, I was surprised that they tipped like exactly 15%, on the pre-coupon bill amount.

You never can tell.

A mind-f*ck of a gardening experiment:

Two of my sprouted sunflower seeds that I transplanted into a pot inside have gotten tall and spindly, and they definitely turn towards the light and get curvy over time, but I can't figure out if they do it quickly over the course of the day, like heliotropism.

Sometimes I think they do, and sometimes I think they don't, and it's kind of f*cking with my head.

Maybe I shouldn't turn around the pot so much as I put it from one window into another over the course of a day, and then I'd have my answer.

Some more ant happenings:

1) I cut a little watermelon on my counter in my little cottage that I have now, and some juice spills on the counter but I immediately wipe it up.

That night when I get home from something, I turn on my kitchen light, and there's like over forty ants just swarming the countertop, including around where the watermelon juice had spilled.

2) I'm sweeping around the (Thai) restaurant where I work now, and up towards the front window tables there's a little chunk of something on the floor that looks stepped on and blackened and dirty but is still kind of chunk-shaped, and two ants are on it, and another is crossing from somewhere across the wooden-slat floor nearby.