The Anarchist and the Waiter

Sometimes I just want to throw a fucking tantrum. I want to ignore all my scruples and ideals and just start flailing around, embarrassing myself fully in the meantime. I think that sometimes people see me as passive or naive or withdrawn. A good tantrum would really nail those perceptions straight to the cross.

Why a tantrum, you might ask? To answer, we must go to a certain restaurant on a certain Saturday night. My party (who will remain unnamed, for their own good) entered, and our host, the callous fucktard that he is, immediately says to me "Cambridge? Really?" (in reference to my shirt). One of my party, who studied in Cambridge over the summer, gave me this particular shirt. I tell this to our fucktard host. I am a little shaken, but okay, whatever, this hostess, he has proven himself to be a planter wart before, so I sort of accept it. But another incident occurs when ordering. I order the Masaman Curry. I suppose I pronounce it wrong, as he repeats it back to me "Masaman, huh" in a sort of "you are an idiot and I am your intellectual superior" kind of way. I decide here that if he gets smart again, I am going to do something crazy. Like maybe throw my food in the floor when he brings it. Or verbally berate him in front of other tables.

Luckily, nothing else happened. We sort of shorted him on tip, only going about 10% or so. But that was the extent of our revenge. And wouldn't you know it, after the passion had died down, I felt guilty. I mean, this guy is a waiter. A thankless profession, and one that, when insulted, is usually insulted in a manner that suggests master/slave relationships. That is to say, an insult based on degradation and dehumanization. I feel very uncomfortable with that kind of insult! I do not want to wear a monocle and express my superiority through my choice of fine tobacco and willingness to insult those who puncture my fragile, enlarged ego.

Although this might read as over the top, it's these kinds of petty divisions that keep so many obnoxious, hateful power structures in place. Let's face it, the waiter and I are essentially on the same side! We're hustling about, trying to keep it all together. That's not to say that he hasn't consistently pulled dick moves. He has. It's just that I see no reason as to why we can't just respect each other and not play the whole "let's punch each other in the arm" game. Can we do that? Can we do that, asshole-waiter? I sure hope so.