Original article posted by Greg:

My first thought was that she was one of those waitresses who has been doing it for so long that she’s just kinda ‘eh’ about it all. You know, like she’s been serving so long that it’s all automatic.

I was very. Very. Wrong.

I think what we finally decided was that she was some sort of pod-person. Although I, personally, have not yet ruled out Morlock. We figure there must have been some sort of accident, so she had to be sent in to replace the real waitress before the pod-waitress had fully developed her motor-skills and human-interaction abilities.

Our first clue should have come when we walked into the steakhouse. There were 2 occupied tables, and no music. It was eerie. There was no sound. Our bald-headed guide, Jon, stood in front of us – smile affixed firmly – gesturing towards a lonely table in the center of the room as if saying “Please bring forth the Kool Aide With Arsenic so that our membership might partake and become one with the bliss that awaits us in the new Irish Themed Space Heaven.” It was like some sort of steak-oriented church with leprechauns on the wall. But we were committed by then. We went forward into Dante’s Steak House.

Then we met our waitress, the pod-morlock. She did the following:

1. Brought water. Good. Done.
2. Asked if we wanted anything else to drink. Good. Great.
3. Everything went horribly horribly wrong. Yes.

After dropping off our drinks, she left again without saying a word. No “Are you ready?” No “Would you like an appetizer?” Just walked off. As she was walking away I said “Could we have an order of mushrooms?”

She looked confused for a while, but then said something like “Yes….. Mushroomsss….. Sure…”

About ten minutes later she came back with the mushrooms. She dropped them off, then walked away again. Still not taking our order. I think it was at this point we started speculating.

Five minutes after that she came back again asking “Can I take your order now?” I make it sound like she was being snotty, but really it was just a question. Like a backwards, podlike way of saying “Would now be a good time to take your order?” Or the preternaturally complicated, “Ready to order?”

So we ordered. Somehow, she thought that Ryan’s pasta dish came with his choice of rice or potato. Though confused by his sudden increase in choices, Ryan managed to order a rice pilaf. She finished taking our order, then walked off saying that she would be bringing us salad plates for the salad bar. She had apparently not noticed Ryan’s empty soda glass.

Time passed. I can’t be sure how much, because Rodney, Ryan, and I were in the midst of contemplating what kind of nether-realm we had wandered into. Rodney insisted that it was actually a virtual reality being blasted onto our retinas. I was not convinced – as no virtual reality I know of contains ironwrought leprechauns pinned to the walls and the drone of a vaccuum cleaner coming from the other room.

A second order of mushrooms arrived. For no apparent reason.

Happily, despite not noticing that we already had an order of mushrooms and yet no salad plates, she noticed that Ryan needed a refill. Which refill he recieved with only minor confusion. (She, upon returning with the drink, asked who it goes to – not noticing the two half-full glasses in front of myself and Rodney.)

A manager kind of guy showed up and was hailed to bring us some bread. She brought the bread out to us. We recieved 2 rolls and 1 half roll in a basket. She did notice that we were out of water by now and suggested that she bring some more. Which, of course, she never did. I got the half roll.

After our food arrived she asked if we need anything else. I asked for butter for my baked potato. She offered to bring us more bread, to which we said yes. And just before she started to walk away without having asked about our empty glasses, I asked for some refills. She got this kind of panicked look. Like her brain had some sort of error message for us. I made sure that I supplied her with “Two Dr. Peppers and one Coke.” before she tried to wreak her podlike vengance upon us. She picked up our glasses and walked away.

Ryan did not in fact ask for the pasta that he was expecting to get with his “Chicken Parmesean with pasta.” He felt it might have been hurtful to her feelings. He did manage to share with us that there was something horribly, horribly wrong with the rice he recieved.

Aside from the rice, the food was good. It was a shame about her not ever coming back with refills, bread, or butter.

She did, however, walk out of the kitchen with an order of mushrooms a few minutes later.

There’s this thing that, if you’ve ever served, would recognize. It’s called the “Oh #$*%” maneuver. It’s when you’re carrying something out to your table, and you realize they’ve already got one, so you make a sudden turn to another table and ask them how they’re doing while surreptitiously holding a superfluous appetizer.

She tried the maneuver, but did it by saying to her only other remaining table “Here, you get free mushrooms.” To which they replied, “Really, we’d just like our check and a box.” As they had been done for a while. Nobody was fooled. She said okay and carried off some of their plates and the mushrooms. All of which she dropped on the floor.

She brought them a box and check. Our check.

Once that was sorted out, we managed to convince her that we really deserved our refills, which she managed to bring right off. She seemed almost on the verge of saying “But you didn’t have any drinks, did you?” It was from this that Ryan learned the adage that life is like soda, which perhaps he will share with you.

To end the suspense: No, we never did recieve our salad plates.

-Greg

Orginal comments:


Nickname: jaddes_green
Re: Pod-Person, or Waitress-on-Mushrooms? on the next Sick-Sad World.
Working at applebees so long as ruined you.

By the way, this is Acey.


Nickname: ravenpaine
Re: Pod-Person, or Waitress-on-Mushrooms? on the next Sick-Sad World.
I have to say that I speculated more, but Greg, the descriptions of Irish theemed church/cult nonsense makes you the clear winner of the “event” description.


Nickname: -soma-
Re: Pod-Person, or Waitress-on-Mushrooms? on the next Sick-Sad World.
The question on my mind is.. How much did you tip the poor woman?…monetarily speaking.


Nickname: Greg
Tippage
The answer is: Quite a bit. I actually didn’t want to leave her much of anything, but the night was one of the most hilarious I’ve ever had eating out – and it was all her fault. So I figured I had better leave her a good tip. It ended up being about 20%, which is about ‘average’ for me – since I like to leave big tips in the hope of Kismet Retribution.

-Greg

Advertisements