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The Waitress Couldn't Care Less

by marmitejar


This story is voicing the thoughts of a couple of the members of staff at Kelp. Contrary to popular belief, waitresses and waiters do form opinions about their customers, and they aren't always nice ones. But I'll just tell you the moral of the story straight off: the waitress couldn't care less- obviously some do, but these two happen to not.

      People sauntered slowly through the streets of Maraqua at an infuriating pace. There were too many people and she couldn't walk around them. She attempted to push through them, but the only thing that she achieved from that was half a dozen evil glances. Fridays were always so busy in Maraqua.

      Oh, just hurry up. Some of us have jobs to go to! she thought. This happened every weekend.

      The crowd began to thin as some people turned off to go to the shops or the Battledome arena, but the majority of the crowd carried on toward Kelp. Suddenly, they came to a halt and she began to push through the crowd more violently.

      'Hey, she's pushing in!' one Bruce called out. 'You go to wait your turn, lady. Why do you think you can push ahead?'

      That's because I do something called work here! Some people are ridiculous. Can they not see the uniform?

      After a few minutes she managed to reach the door. Gus, the Scorchio was already at the door, greeting the first of the customers.

      'I am afraid I don't have anything under that name. There are no more tables available, we are a very popular establishment you know. Maybe you should call in advance next time,' he said to a very optimistic pair of Lennies.

      Everyone in the world must know that Kelp is most busy on Fridays, and yet some people still try and get in with NO reservation.

      'Really? We came all the way from Terror Mountain."

      Ah, oldest trick in the book, the sympathy vote. Well guess what? That's not going to work is it Mr. Customer? because this is a business, not a charity and we have to cater for those sensible customers who have enough brain cells to actually book in advance. Every time someone tried to make him feel sorry for them, a similar thought would form in his brain. He plastered a frown on his face and made a sympathetic noise, when he actually just wanted to laugh at their stupidity.

      'Really? Oh no, well you can book and try again next week. Have a safe journey home.' He smiled and was about to go onto the next customer.

      'Well, it's actually my birthday and we were... you know... hoping that we could get a last minute table.' The other Lenny nodded and wrapped an arm around the second.

      'It's her eightieth, which is obviously a very special date.'

      Are you still trying this? Take no for an answer!

      'Could you maybe have a word with the manager?' the supposed 'Birthday Girl' asked.

      No, because he's at his holiday home in Mystery Island doing no work at all, and still reaping in millions of neopoints a week. But, just because you've gone through the effort of stringing a series of fairly obvious lies, I will go inside and pretend to have a sincere word with him.

      'I'll go and speak with him now.' He turned into the restaurant and the poor waitress who had been waiting for about ten minutes just to get into her work place, finally slipped in and started her shift. She picked up a tray of cutlery and glasses and began to lay the tables. Meanwhile, the Scorchio went into the kitchen and told the chef about the incredibly annoying couple at the door.

      'What should I say?' he said and moved away from the chef as he carried a pot trailing steam over to the sink.

      'Tell them that the manager regrets to inform them that the restaurants health laws will not allow more than two-hundred people in the premise at once and if we exceed that limit, then we may have to shut our fine establishment down.'

      The Scorchio mulled it over for a minute, verified it as reasonable and went to repeat it to the couple outside.

      'Well, that's a pity isn't it, Maria?' asked her 'date'.

      'I'm sorry. I hear that there are some lovely restaurants on Mystery Island that you could try.' He actually didn't know of any restaurants on Mystery Island, but at least they were likely to be in a different land then.

      They walked away. He took his book that contained the list of names of people that had made reservations and began taking names. After a while he was met with another string of around a dozen customers that hadn't made reservations. Right, that's it, he thought.


      A lot of people looked shocked, but about half of them walked away.

      'Right, what's the name, sir?' the Scorchio asked the next customer, as if nothing happened.

      'Right this way. Someone will seat you momentarily.' He ushered the Lupe wearing black sunglasses in the direction of the restaurant doors.

      After he was seated, the Uni waitress came over and opened her notebook to a new page. She saw a phrase written at the top of it and read it.

      'Hello, may I recommend the Ocean Platter today?' I really hate the manager, she thought. The manager was kind enough to write a different greeting at the top of every page of her notebook, so that she would greet each customer in a polite and friendly manner. In fact, she wouldn't recommend the Ocean Platter because it was an overpriced plate of doom that tasted like rubber, or some other burnt material that could be found on a roadside in Neopia Central.

      'Hmmm... I'll have a think, but at the moment you can get me a Thornberry Brew. And make it cold, I hate warm drinks. You can go now.' He waved her away.

      I find the lack of thank you irritating and I now have a sudden urge to 'accidently' put something horrible in your drink.

      She got his drink and came back.

      'Is that alright, sir?' she asked, wondering if he'd notice the couple of drops of some mouldy juice from a bucket outside she'd put in it.

      'Well, it's slightly too sweet, but I suppose I can live with it. Now, to business.' He opened up his menu. 'I want the most expensive of everything, ok? And if I don't like it then I'm just going to send it back because the most expensive dishes should taste the best.'

      He had a rather strange logic, but she could see where he was coming from. Whilst she was walking to the kitchen, a human sat with her Cybunny pulled her over.

      'Sorry to disturb you, but could I ask you a question?' she said.

      You just asked a question, you idiot.

      From the look in her eyes, the waitress could tell she was stupid.

      'Sure,' she said in a far too cheery voice.

      'Where does the Maraquan Cream Broth come from?'

      Is she serious? I really hope she is. If she's not, then there's no hope for her in life.

      'Well, it comes from Maraqua, like it says in the title,' she said in a slow voice like she was talking to a child.

      'Thank you very much! I'm always trying to eat locally.' Her pet Cybunny had gone pink in shame and mouthed, 'I'm so sorry' to the waitress. The waitress smiled and carried on towards the kitchen.

      When she burst into the hot, cramped room that was the kitchen, she shouted out what she needed and went back out to the dining room. As soon as she walked out, several people tried to get her attention. She went over to the closest party nearby and looked at the top of her notebook page.

      'Feel free to take your time selecting your meal,' she said to the three Bruces.

      Although I would prefer you didn't as I don't want to be here any longer than and I have to, and you don't really need to take your time as it is a small menu and if you are like every normal person in the world who has manners, you will make a snappy decision and we can both get on with our lives.

      'Actually, we've already decided. Can we all have the Fish Special please, and then the Triple Chocolate Shell to follow? Thank you very much.'

      You are the best people in the world.

      'Sure. Your order should be with you in around twenty minutes.' She moved onto the next table who began to tell her an incredibly boring story about their grand-daughter.

      I really don't care and to be honest, I never will.

      Instead of saying this, she smiled, nodded and laughed in the appropriate places.

      'OI!' A rather loud shout echoed around the room and one of the other waitresses dropped a tray of glasses in surprise.

      She looked around to see who was making such a commotion.

      Not you again, she thought with a groan when she saw it was the Lupe with the expensive taste.

      'Can you get over here?' He directed his request at her.

      You do not know how strong my urge to walk away from you is right now.

      'Is there a problem Sir?' She put her false cheery waitress voice on.

      'Yes, where's my food?' He gestured at the empty table.

      I have literally had enough of you. The manager's not here, if you ask for my name, I'll give you a fake one. I am not treating you with respect anymore you annoying little man.

      'Where do you think it is? It's in something called the kitchen being made! Things take TIME to cook because otherwise you get food poisoning.'

      He looked at her in disgust.

      'Do you know who I am?' he said.

      'Do you know who I am?' she replied back.

      'I'm your manager,' he snapped and he took his sunglasses off, 'and you're fired.'

      I thought he was in Mystery Island! Oh, never mind.

      'Do you know what? I literally couldn't care less!' She danced around the table and threw her apron over his head and skipped out the door.

      I feel sorry for the rest of the fools who still have to work here. The thought ran through her mind.

      But then she realised, she didn't have to keep these thoughts in her head anymore; she could say them out loud.

The End

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