I keep forgetting I have this thing
My, we live in a grumpy society. Things happen, people complain, other people fail to care, the complainers get outraged. Oh the joys of working in the service industry.
On another note, society is also hungry...
As a baker, I'm beginning to feel slightly guilty about my job. Last night, a man came in and sat down at a table that I could see from my counter. He was wearing a t-shirt and (perhaps ironically) gym shorts, and his gut was resting on his lap and nearly sagging over his knees. I didn't pursue talking to him even though I'm supposed to try to persuade the guests that cheesecake is a good idea. Unfortunately, he persued talking to me and I'm not allowed to refuse service just because I feel like it's irresponsible to give a four hundred pound man another piece of cheesecake. What I was thinking was, "Well, sir, I would give you dessert but I'm concerned you might either have a heart attack or burst a blood vessel and hemmorage your sugar-sticky blood all over my nice clean floor. In both of these cases, it involves you dead, and I simply don't have enough staff to lift your girth and get you out of sight of the other guests who probably wouldn't care to step around your dead body, and as everyone knows, society hates a rotting corpse. Wouldn't you like a nice salad instead? Or maybe a spin on the treadmill?" What I said was, "A New York style cheesecake covered in fudge brownie topping? Right away sir." I am a merchant of death. Fortunately, he just ate his cheesecake and left. So if he did in fact have some sort of cardiovascular fiasco, I don't know about it, so for the time being, I'll continue peddling my high-cholesterol high-fat goods.
On another note, society is also hungry...
As a baker, I'm beginning to feel slightly guilty about my job. Last night, a man came in and sat down at a table that I could see from my counter. He was wearing a t-shirt and (perhaps ironically) gym shorts, and his gut was resting on his lap and nearly sagging over his knees. I didn't pursue talking to him even though I'm supposed to try to persuade the guests that cheesecake is a good idea. Unfortunately, he persued talking to me and I'm not allowed to refuse service just because I feel like it's irresponsible to give a four hundred pound man another piece of cheesecake. What I was thinking was, "Well, sir, I would give you dessert but I'm concerned you might either have a heart attack or burst a blood vessel and hemmorage your sugar-sticky blood all over my nice clean floor. In both of these cases, it involves you dead, and I simply don't have enough staff to lift your girth and get you out of sight of the other guests who probably wouldn't care to step around your dead body, and as everyone knows, society hates a rotting corpse. Wouldn't you like a nice salad instead? Or maybe a spin on the treadmill?" What I said was, "A New York style cheesecake covered in fudge brownie topping? Right away sir." I am a merchant of death. Fortunately, he just ate his cheesecake and left. So if he did in fact have some sort of cardiovascular fiasco, I don't know about it, so for the time being, I'll continue peddling my high-cholesterol high-fat goods.