How to tell if your waitress is on crack

Today I met a friend for lunch and I made two grave mistakes. First mistake. I brought my kids. Second mistake: I forgot to ask for crack free seating.

Here's a small snippet of our lunch.

Before my friend arrives my kids are physically hurting each other over a quarter. Turns out Little G brought a quarter in because he thought there would be a gum ball machine. There wasn't a gum ball machine so he decided to give the quarter to his sister. Then we turned the corner and there was a claw machine. Oh sweet mother. Now HE WANTS THE QUARTER BACK. Big G isn't having it. It's clearly not fair.

I take the quarter, which they probably took from my car to begin with.

The waitress comes and takes our order. She talks faster than an auctioneer on his third red bull. My son is upset because he forgot to order corn. Oldest G is trying to explain that he only gets one side and he picked fries. To which he starts crying, "but I wanted corn."

My kids have nothing to say to me unless I am speaking to someone else. Then they want to tell me about the salt spilling, the quarter Middle G found on the floor, the hole they just found in their pants. ANYTHING TO INTERRUPT...repeatedly.

Just as I begin to understand why some animals each their young, our food arrives. I order corn for little G and say to the waitress that "I think I was supposed to get fries."

To which she replies, "No. You got a salad instead."

To which I replied. "I'm pretty sure I ordered a sandwich and fries and asked you if I could have the salad instead of the soup."

Waitress: "There is only one side. You ordered a salad."

Oldest G rolls her eyes at me as if to say I just got done telling Little G this.

Me: "OK. No big deal my kids will probably have a lot left over."

I figured that was that and started eating. Then said waitress returned with the menu to prove she wasn't "ripping me off". Seriously?

She shows me the ultimate grilled cheese and soup listing and says that it clearly means I get the sandwich and the salad. I pointed to the small print at the top that said "all wraps and sandwiches served with fries."

Waitress: "All sandwiches except this one. This one has soup."

Me: "Okay. It really isn't a big deal."

Five minutes later....

She returns with corn and a F**KING oder of French fries.

Waitress: "I spoke to the manager and he said you're right and I'm wrong so I went ahead and got your fries. I have been working here for eight years and THEY KEEP CHANGING THE MENU. I mean it's hard to keep it all straight you know. I just want you to know that I am not ripping you off. I'm not...okay."

Slightly frightened and concerned that she is indeed ripping me off, I said, "Okay. It's not really that big of a deal."

By the time ice cream ordering came around she was a mess. Insisting that I couldn't have just two scoops in my sundae. That if I did, she would have to charge me extra for the toppings. That I had to have three scoops or pay for each squirt of topping. Why would it cost more to get less?

It was bizzare. It was as if she couldn't possibly grasp the concept that I was the customer and could have any damn thing I wanted.

The kids spent the entire lunch interrupting me, tossing their trash around, touching each other when asked not to and hiding their chicken in their sauces.

"Why was that waitress so weird," asked Middle G when we got to the car. I was surprised she noticed.

"I don't know," I said, "Drugs, bad meds, too many misbehaving children at her tables. It's hard to say."

"Maybe she just likes to be right," said Middle G. "Everyone likes that."

Truer words may never have been spoken.