I Shall Wait Forever For My Side Of Mayo

Is this it, then? An official challenge? If so, I accept without hesitation. This will not be the first restaurant that has tried to undo me. I am fully prepared, emotionally and physically, to wait forever for my side of mayo. May my burger become cold and rubbery in the ensuing standoff, it will be a worthy sacrifice when I triumphantly receive the condiment I requested nigh over four minutes ago.

Many of my french fries have already coalesced. Those who were not eaten while I peered restlessly around the dining room were not structurally up to the punishing climate I must endure while waiting for my mayo. They became limp with despair. But fear not, bun top, who sits trembling in anticipation, you will soon be coated in the veneer you so clearly need to become delicious. Protect yourself beneath the lettuce’s leafy embrace.

Why won’t the server catch my glare? The follow up is a fundamental part of the service industry. I mean, come on! Stop watching the hockey game and turn around. The people next to me are trying to get your attention too, although I was first. God! That’s good, talk to the bartender. Don’t even glance over at your section, which is crying out for refills, condiments, and all sorts of amenities we presumed were included in the price of our meals. Am I right, older gentleman who can’t enjoy his coffee without creamer? Would you care to give me five in recognition of our plight??

Very well. I will “lower my voice,” if that would please you. And though I may be perceived as a “stupid jackass” to you, I know in my heart who is the brave soul in this battle, and who has perished beneath the crush of complacency. I am the brave soul, for your reference. This bravery will also be reflected in my tip, which is a barbed and purposeful 14%.