So, I have this issue at work. People stare at me sometimes. I’m used to my guests looking at me. I’m used to them listening to me. I’m not used to people who continuously stare at me and not utter a word. This makes me uncomfortable.
Sometimes I believe these stares are because my guests haven’t realized this is no ordinary restaurant and their meal is going to cost a lot. This is the “price tag shock” stare. I know these folks will only tip me about 10%.
Sometimes I believe it is because they can’t believe I didn’t show up at their table with two teeth, both rotted, cracking gum and saying, “How ya’ll doin’ tonight? Kin I getcha a bear?” This goes along with the “price tag shock” stare. I call this the “I’m outta my league” stare.
Sometimes its the guy at the table with his wife or girlfriend and he flirts and stares every time I come to the table, to the point I pray to Goddess he’s paying the tab because if his wife or girlfriend does then I’ll be getting about 10%. I call this the “Lothario stare.”
On occasion, I have the great fortune (read sarcastically) of waiting on a group of ladies to whom genes, time, and too many hot fudge cakes haven’t been kind. Its one thing to be overweight, its another to be overweight and ugly, and yet another to be overweight, ugly, and have a rotten personality. Two of those you just can’t help sometimes. There’s one lady who comes in who could be a plus-size model. She’s beautiful, sweet, and has a great personality. Another lady is very overweight, not exactly pretty, but has a great personality and is always smiling and fun to wait on.
Then you have the other ladies. The overweight, ugly, rotten personalitied ones. They’re the ones who like to make all of their requests, one.at.a.time, so I’m running my ass off the entire time they’re there for refills, more dressing, a lemon, a lime, more cheese, more “pink” sugar, more “blue” sugar, more “yellow” sugar, a new glass, another plate, more bread, and dessert, one. at. a time. and basically want me to do everything above and beyond but feed them and then wipe their ass when they shit it out. And they stare at me… the entire time. Stare. Like I have three heads and I just didn’t ask if they wanted mustard and mayo with that cheeseburger and fries. I call this the “if I look at her long enough she’ll gain 50 lbs. and be ugly” stare. I just thank them (silently) that I got my workout and they just paid me to do it (because I’m a bitch that way.)
Then there are days that I have absolutely no clue why people are staring at me. Men and women staring at me. I’ve asked my co-workers if I have an errant boogey hanging from my nostril, if I have spinach between my teeth, or if somehow between putting my make-up on and walking onto the floor that one of my eyebrows has mysteriously disappeared. I’ve been assured that nothing of the like has occurred.
On Friday evening, I had the “Lothario.” We went to high school together and he graduated with my brother. Once I reminded him who I was he said, “Wow, you grew up beautiful.” Leading me to believe I was some kind of bow-wow in high school. I laughed about it and he said, “You’re totally misunderstanding me.” Since I didn’t want to understand and I definitely didn’t want his wife to understand, I changed the subject back to food and beverage. I think the friends they were with tipped me big because I pointedly dismissed his staring by not responding, at all.
J.M. stares at me but I think its because he wishes I was willing to sacrifice my uterus to the Union and the Republican Party so he wouldn’t feel guilty about wishing he had the guts to date me. Too late. He’s the guy who told me I have beautiful eyes.
I could chalk Friday up to the fact Jace had just asked me out and I was floating. And I could chalk yesterday up to the fact that I had a wonderful weekend and was still smiling like an idiot all day, but that doesn’t explain the other times that it has happened before Friday and before Jace.
Yes, I have a pretty face, and yes, I have breasts but neither of those, to my knowledge, has ever made anyone lose the ability to speak coherent sentences when asked a simple, “Would you like fries, chips, or fruit with that?”
So, please, STOP. STARING. AT ME.