You want fries with that?

Josh LOVES to order his own food. So why is it when he smiles at the waitress and orders his own food do they NOT believe that he knows what he wants? Why do they always try and “fix” what he orders?

We went out to lunch today. When the waitress came over, Josh said, “I’d like a hot dog, with stripes, but no bun. I would also like applesauce. And to drink? Mom? May I have a Diet Coke?”

“You may.”

He smiles at the waitress and says, “and a Diet Coke. My mom wants one of those too.”

Now, this is the point where she should turn to ME and ask me what I would like. But no. Not Angela. She can’t be expected to leave well enough alone. “Wouldn’t you rather have fries with your hot dog?”

“No, Angela, he wouldn’t. He would like the apple sauce.”
“And milk to drink for him?”

“Um, no. He asked for my permission in front of you, got it and ordered Diet Coke.”

So, Angela goes away to submit our order. We’re busy planning our ice cream sundae desserts. Here comes our food.

Hot dog, on a bun. Strike one. And a big freakin’ plate of fries.

Josh looks at her and says, “But I wanted applesauce, not fries. Mom, I wanted apple sauce. Why can’t I have apple sauce? Are they out of apple sauce?”

Angela rolled her eyes.

Now, the angry, bitter bitch in me wanted to stand up, put my hands around Angela’s throat and choke the shit out of her. Let her know that this is MY child she is rolling her eyes at. My child who very clearly ordered a mother fuckin’ hot dog with NO BUN, and APPLE SAUCE. How dare she roll her eyes at my kid questioning her ability to do her job.

The mom in me, wanted my kid to have what he ordered, what he wanted. I smiled, and was about to open my mouth when Josh decided that he could handle this one on his own.

“Excuse me. I would like my apple sauce. When you go get it, take this bun with you, because I really didn’t want it.” And with that, he picked up his hot dog and set it on the plate. He picked up the bun, and held it in between his forefinger and thumb and presented it to her. She stared at him, he gave it a shake. She continued to stare. He dropped the bun on the floor.

The mom in me wanted to correct him, make him pick it up and apologize to her. The angry, bitter bitch in me thought the douchebag could pick it up her own damn self, when she brings back the applesauce. I just said half-heartedly, “Josh. You don’t drop food on the floor. Do you think you want M&M’s on your sundae or are you going for chocolate sauce as your third topping?”

In the end, the little slutbag tried to charge us for the fries she brought in error by adding “extra side” to our bill. I very kindly asked her to take the “extra side” off of the bill. She suggested that she saw my child eating a french fry and so, we would need to pay for it. I let her know that if she was concerned about people eating the erroneous fries, then perhaps the shouldn’t have sat on our table for the entire meal. I then suggested that I would happily pay the money for the fries, but that would mean that she would not receive much of a tip. You see, I know that when Josh and I go to Friendly’s for lunch, a $20 covers our meal and the tip. Knowing this, I had – you guessed it - a $20.

She didn’t make a move. I called her bluff. I left the bill as is, tucked the $20 inside and figured she could figure it out all on her own. She either has a $1.12 tip or she took off the charge for the fries and got her 20%. I don’t really give a shit either way. I know what lunch and a 20% tip our $16 bill is easily covered by a $20. Sure, I had some singles in my purse, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before the 19-year-old rude ass bitch gets any more out of me.

I was so irritated with Angela, that I was able to totally ignore the annoying 12-year-old girl having lunch with either a distant family member or a family friend, who spoke in run on sentences with that “I’m ALMOST a teenager” air about her. I got to hear all about how this year, she would be a Timberwolf AND a Star. Because she would cheer for her school as well as a local competition squad. You know, she just couldn’t understand why her mom would be irritated at the cost of the uniforms. It’s not like my dad doesn’t make enough money. And they pay for Alan to play ball in the spring and take karate in the fall. And they just got a new dog, but she doesn’t think she should have to ever walk the dog. I mean why would you get a dog if you were just going to make your children take care of it? She didn’t even want a dog. If she had chosen a dog it wouldn’t be one that looked like “a rat.” She would have gotten a big dog. One that would say that their family was important and could handle a big dog. OH JUST FUCKING SHOOT ME.

On the ride home, Josh informed me that his imaginary friend, Harold, doesn’t have clothes. He’s always naked. It’s ok though because he’s just imaginary and no one can see him, so he doesn’t have to wear clothes. I told Josh that was a pretty sweet deal – if no one could see me, I likely wouldn’t wear clothes either. That shut him up.

I wonder if the bun is still on the floor.