Serving the people who serve us
By Anonymous

“They walked into the restaurant on a quiet night for dinner and a couple bottles of merlot, and things quickly devolved from there. The wife was getting loud and obnoxious, which isn’t really out of the ordinary; but as the night went on it became more and more obvious that she was hitting on me in front of her husband (I’m gay).

After they finished their entrees, the wife asked me where the bathrooms were. The bathrooms are a complicated subject: they’re actually located outside the restaurant, and it’s impossible to find them without an escort. Typically that job falls on the server (me). So I held her hand (she’d have fallen otherwise), and off we were, eventually ending up at the bathroom door, where she realized that we were alone. She had me cornered. She pinned me up against the door and swooped in for a kiss. I ducked and got out of her grip seconds before her gross, lipstick-soaked mouth would have made contact with my face. I threw her the bathroom key and ran back inside the restaurant.

You think it’s funny, and it kind of is, but it’s also depressing. The entire time she was trying so desperately to get inside my pants, her husband was not only apologizing to me, but also to their kindergarten-aged son sitting at the table confused and scared.”

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