D.A.R.E. to be on...Meth?
It's a typical Thursday lunch, I have seven tables and am getting rocked.
All the usual tables, a great mix of entry level office drones, self important businessmen, and of course the "Office Ladies tm"
I'm getting ready to flip my tables into another round of ten percenters when a four top drops down.
Three ladies and a "Gentleman," which is a loose term for him indeed...
They look like a sales crew to me, you know, the ones who go door to door and try to sell you a Hustler or Home and Garden, whatever your pleasure may be.
Well I get their requisite waters, and usual salad and soup lunches and think that's it.
As I cruise past the gentleman grabs my arm.
Ya, DON'T DO THAT SHIT!!
I want to scream.
"Yes sir, can I help you?" I sputter as I try to catch the side of ranch precariously balanced on the edge of the plate I'm carrying.
"Ya can you tell me something?"
"You don't do any of that shit they do around here do you?" He queries.
"What do you mean sir?"
"That Crystal Meth, you don't do that do you?"
Shit, I probably should if it makes dealing with clowns like you any easier.
But of course my answer is, "um no, why?"
"Well that's what you guys do in Iowa isn't? Meth?"
"Not most of us, why would you ask me that?" I stare incredulously at him.
"I just want to know what its like."
Christ, what a dumbshit...
If he actually wanted to know, he could just drag a can of Coors Light on a string through a trailer park, ask one of the scrubs chasing it.
Bet they would have all the information you need.
But no, he had to ask me of all people.
I know I work in a restaurant, but does that mean I have the Crystal hook up??
I might be able to score some brickweed swag from one of the bus boys, but come on.
It seems people think us waiters have all the answers.
I get asked everything from where the "Titty Bar" is to "Is there a whorehouse in town?"
Beyond knowing the number for a cab to take your clown-ass out of my sight, please don't hassle me.
And don't assume I'm a Meth addict because of my pasty disposition and stubbley face, I wasn't up smoking rocks, geez...
I was up all night drinking thoughts of people like you into oblivion.