AnonymousCoworker

The other night my family took a trip to a nationwide restaurant that prides itself on providing over-salted and artery-clogging fare with a huge glob of stereotypical Australia thrown in. My parents had gift certificates that were about to expire, so we ventured to the only restaurant on Earth where the salads are less healthy than the french fries. I’m still not exactly sure how one would go about deep-frying a salad, or why someone would be inclined to cover said salad in a pound of bacon that had been soaking in ranch dressing (which had been made from lard and a packet of dried ranch flavoring) and then cover the whole thing in ranch dressing again just before serving the whole thing in a bowl of ranch dressing with ranch dressing on the side. But hey, who am I to argue about how Australians prepare their food?

And because it’s a nationwide chain, the company has little incentive to hire anyone but the lowest common denominator of employee. I’m sure there are some talented people working tables for them, but they’re few and far between. Our waiter was particularly odd. He pluralized every person. He kept asking, “Do we know if we want any appetizers?” and “Is there anything else someone can get for us right now?” What the fuck, dude? I know WE want appetizers, but I have no idea if you want any. Maybe you should get your own. And it would be helpful if you could get more drinks for us right now. Last I checked you were the waiter and we were the patrons. This isn’t come sort of hippie communist reach-around restaurant, is it?

Even weirder, he then continued using “we” and “us” when he would speak to one person in particular. Like, “Do we need more water over there?” or “Do we need more lemons in our iced tea?” Seriously man, what the fuck? I need more water, you can get your own. I’m not sharing with you, weirdo.

There were other things as well. For example, his affect was completely flat. It was as if he was born without the ability to have emotions. I think at one point he tried to smile because he just stood there and stared at us. Maybe he thought he was being quite the gregarious server. He really just looked creepy. It was like an extremely lifelike robot kept asking “Do we want to add a lobster tail to any of our entrees?” (And by the way, what the fuck is that about? I just got a chicken sandwich. Why the shit would I want a lobster tail on top of it? That’s retarded.)

He also seemed unfamiliar with the whole process of being a waiter. When he was passing out plates for the appetizers, or drinks for everyone, he just kind of stuffed his hand into the air above the center of the table and waited for someone to take whatever he was holding. But he was doing it really quickly, so as soon as we pulled a plate out of the air there would be another one up there waiting for us all the while he’s rapidly eyeballing everyone at the table in an attempt to figure out which of us would be taking the plate. He would administer a two-second eye-fucking and then jump to the next person to do the same thing. I have no idea what his issue was, but it was the weirdest waiter we’ve ever had.

We almost wished he wouldn’t come around to check on drinks every few minutes because that was just another chance for him to “we” himself into our family, and then “us” himself into our drink, and then exhibit absolutely no emotion whatsoever leaving him staring vacantly somewhere through the middle of our table while stuffing drinks into the air above the table waiting for someone to grab them as he went on a merry-go-round of expressionless eye-fucking.

I guess I can only assume all Australians are like that.