Ah, something blogworthy.

So Satan graced me with his presence tonight, and the only thing that got me through the hour he was in my station was the fact that I finally had something to write about... and the bottle of vodka in my pantry.

A "gentleman" came in this afternoon when I was the only one on the floor, with his girlfriend and her son (who I originally thought was a girl thanks to his long long locks and feminine features).
I knew I was in for a good time when I greeted the table.
"Hi, how are you guys today? What can I get you to drink?"
"HA! What I want is another waitress! I hate blondes... especially dumb ones."

Obviously thought he was just busting my chops, but... oh hell no.
"Well, sir, you'll have to wait in the car while your family has dinner, because I'm the only one here."
His dining companions continually laughed at my comebacks, but I was amazed she would let him talk to me like that. Especially after she commented that she used to work in a diner for 18 years!
I let them sit for ten minutes.
"Are you ready to behave, or do you want to wait another ten minutes for the brunette waitress' shift to start?"

As I'm taking his family's order, he starts toying with the bottom of my apron.
"Uhm.. there's nothing under there for you!"
"Clearly nothing for anybody, you're too skinny!"

Fine. I continue taking the order. He asks if I have a boyfriend. I relish this opportunity to tell him yes, I have a 250 lb. boyfriend fresh out of the Army. He was unfazed.

As I'm waiting for their food, checking on my other customers, talking to my coworkers, etc. He continually hollers across the restaurant to comment on the things I'm saying. I ignore him.

I bring his girlfriend the coffee she requested. He commented on the wait time and asked where his was.
"Well, sir, you were too busy calling me a dumb blonde to request anything other than water."
He threatened to throw ICE down my SHIRT. If this were a more corporate restaurant, I believe I could have had him kicked out for the harassment I was enduring. Unfortunately, they "know the owner" and we must bend for regulars.

As I'm bringing the food, he decides it's time to tell me that for Christmas, I should have asked my boyfriend to bring me a butt. Another "too skinny" reference.

Many more comments and inappropriate questions ensue, too much to even remember at this point (again, thank you, vodka). Finally, they leave my station, with a 25% tip... they would have had to double that to even begin to make up for his behavior.

When people act like this, I used to be so taken aback I couldn't say a word. At this point, I've come up with quicker reflexes and better comebacks, which are probably only feeding into the sick pleasure they get from torturing poor waitresses.

Fortunately, the rest of my night went very smoothly. Le sigh.