This is not story time…

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You are not a five year old in bed. You are not illiterate. And you snapping your fingers at me to summon me to your side demonstrates that you also aren’t blind. So, that being said, please explain to me why it is I have to read the menu to you. Please, I’m begging you – enlighten me.

If the menu says, “Parmesan-crusted Chicken: Chicken breast, coated with parmesan cheese and crunchy panko breadcrumbs, pan-fried until golden brown. Served with your choice of potato and vegetable.” then that means there are two chicken breasts, with parmesan cheese and breadcrumbs that are pan-fried. What is not to understand?

There is no need for you to point to the menu item, which has a detailed description directly underneath and ask, “Yeah, uh, what’s in the Parmesan-crusted Chicken?”

And what amazes me even more is that as soon as I provide you with the same exact description, you magically say, “Oh okay…I’ll have that.”  Dude, really?  Come on, you’re better than that…

NowLADIES, I am speaking directly to you.

I cant’t give you what you want if you don’t ask for it:  As we have discussed previously, I am not psychic.  So if you don’t tell me you want the sauce on the side – I am not going to put the sauce on the side.  If you don’t comminucate that you would like the chicken on the right side of the plate and the mashed potatoes on the left side, the chicken is going to come on top of the mashed potatoes – just like the menu illustrates.  If you don’t make it a point to ask me if the chicken is gluten-free…you best call the hospital and make reservations.

As the server, I am responsible to make sure you get your meal – you’re the one responsible for enjoying it.  Recognize.

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