A - La - watch your cutlerly buddy

On the surface she seems charming, well mannered and sweet. Upon sitting on down she is graceful and doting – you let your guard down, relax (the waitress isn’t going to judge you). But do not be deceived. The a-la-carte waitress is a two-faced, devious, breed – one never to be taken for granted.

I am the kind of waitress that will walk away sniggering at the incorrect usage of the ‘bug cracker’ or the ‘oyster fork’. She does bitch about your outfit, your pronunciation of the work pappardelle, and she will always scoff at your meagre tip.

We a-la-carte waitresses are a sensitive type of person. You may think your request for a new glass of wine is just – after all there is a fly floating in it. You may think your request for a new glass was worded thoughtfully, your smile warming, and your manner empathetic. You may think your waitress is ‘only too happy’ to get you that fresh bottle. You may even think her lingering smile was her way of asking for your phone number. Well, let me assure you – it was not.

A common misconception among young men (particularly those that aren’t paying for their own drinks) is that a waitress who is happy to get you a beer, is happy to have your hand on her ass. In fairness, I can understand that a female willing to race back and forth from the bar all night with schooners of Extra Dry does seem like a crack on, but shoving a $20 bill in her hand and preventing her from accessing the kitchen door will not get you a date.

But in the end, despite our nuances and peculiarities, we are appreciative of a good customer. You know, the kind that understand entrée cutlery is on the outside of the main. The kind that finishes all of their food and most of all the kind that’s out before nine. If you are this kind of customer, we will think of you fondly every time a child spits in our face, or a supercilious old women ‘poo poo’s’ our service.

It’s the gay waiters you really have to watch.