iCan’t make this shyt Up, iWrite4Yelp #now 


if u find yourself on the north end of atherton street after 11:11 with no car, Denny’s is one of the only options for food NoT made by McDonald’s or a gas station, the reason Nicole (last name unknown) & i found ourselves being seated by an artificially affable waitress, more interested in reading the local newspaper at the bar counter than making sure Nicole got a salad, which she thought came included with the egg skillet she ordered, when apparently it does not, although the server did unintentionally provide dinner entertainment when she proceeded to seat a couple at the booth connected to ours in an otherwise empty restaurant. 
“Can we have any other table so I don’t feel crowded?” The monster energy hat wearing gentleman asks, almost inaudibly. ” i m sorry, I just don’t want to feel crowded in an empty restaurant.”
The waitress responds to His request with disingenuous eyes of hospitality. 
“Just any other table.” He pleads. 
As she directs the couple to another table, I put my perfectly cooked grand slamwhich down next to my nicely golden toasted hash browns, outraged by his comments of blatant disregard for my comfort as a fellow patron, i announce aloud to the room, 
“I feel personally insulted right now, as though my very existence is an inconvenience. Like I’m less of a person & now i also wish to be moved, most preferably to one of the already closed sections of the restaurant.”
“Well I would prefer a booth with a window view of the road, specifically the one right next to that couple over by that window,” Nicole exclaims, desiring a new table on the exact opposite end of where I am pointing towards. 
The waitress, unqualified to handle situations like the one currently unfolding, returns to reading the astrology section of the paper as Nicole & i debate over which piece of Artwork we would rather be sitting closer to, while The other couple lean closer together, speaking in conspiring whispers, undoubtedly planning a natural catastrophe capable of undermining national security by embezzling billions of National Flood Insurance money through the Federal Disaster Assistance program, according to the episode of PBS Frontline, streaming over the free wifi provided by Denny’s. 
My bloodshot eyes convey the message to our server, identifying the other customers as obvious terrorist, notifying her that my partner & i were on a stakeout, requiring Apple crisp to keep our true intentions incognito. 
She follows instructions, awkwardly smiling, filling up our glasses with plenty of water before returning with a check and two Apple crisp, containing a generous portion of crust topping. 
Overall the docile etiquette of service conflicts with my personal philosophy about work as a systematic orchestration designed to oppress the employee’s soul, perpetuating the state of hopeless poverty necessary to keep middle aged women reading 5 page newspapers over the course of an 8 hour graveyard shift for $2.85 an hour plus the generosity of 20% on a bill comprised of $2 meal items. I left smoking a Newport, questioning American values. “Where is the humanity?” I ask myself, wondering why my waitress lacked despondency, the natural human condition created by the alienated disconnection of a capitalist society. 

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