It's time for another edition of Chief's "What I Meant to Say."
Let me set the story...
I went to lunch and a movie with my girlfriends (Lucy, Serena, Peaches, Hugs, and until I think of a better nickname....LL Buff Chick) recently. The waiter brought my order and it was wrong. When I brought it to his attention, he asked what I had ordered. I replied, "The chicken ciabatta sandwich." To which he replied, "That IS the chicken ciabatta sandwich."
Me: "Ummm...nope. This is a fried chicken breast with cheese and marinara. The sandwich I ordered is a blackened chicken breast with grilled peppers."
Douchebag Waiter: "We don't have a grilled chicken ciabatta sandwich."
Me: "Uh, yes you do. I order it all the time."
My friend Lucy: "Yep. I've been here with her when she has ordered it!"
Moron: "You'll have to show me on the menu."
Me: "Fine. Bring me one. I'll show you."
Dumbo brings me a menu. I point to the left hand side of the menu to the chicken jack ciabatta sandwich.
Ignoramus: "Ohhhhhhhh...THAT chicken ciabatta sandwich. We thought you meant the chicken PARMESAN ciabatta sandwich."
He then proceeds to apologize profusely.
What I said: I'm not upset. I just don't want the chicken parmesan sandwich. I would like the one I pointed to on the left side of the menu and not the new item on the right side of the menu. Thank you. I will be happy to wait."
What I meant to say: "Get your hiney back there and start grillin' my chicken! And next time don't treat me like an idiot. Oh, and you might want to LEARN YOUR OWN STINKIN' MENU!! Hurry up because all my friends have their food already!"
The weasely waiter kept apologizing every time he passed by...and unfortunately, our table was near the kitchen door....which means he was giving me an update on the status of my food and letting me know how sorry he was every 40 seconds. At one point he put his hand on my shoulder as he passed by.
What I said: Nothing. *wide eyes at my friends who were all stifling giggles* Well, all except for Hugs. She was laughing out loud.
What I meant to say: "Gross. Get your grubby little hands off of me. I bet you wouldn't have touched me if my mammoth sized Prince was with me."
After he FINALLY brought me my sandwich, he came over to the table (again!), squatted down beside me and apologized for the eleventy billionth time. (I stole that number from JenFab.) He then made a grand production of presenting me with a coupon for a free appetizer on my next visit.
What I said: "Thanks."
What I meant to say: "What a lame gesture after ARGUING with me about whether or not the sandwich was a figment of my imagination! How about you bring all my girls a dessert for THEIR trouble since they were all finished eating by the time you brought my food and had to sit around waiting for me to polish off my sandwich!"
Don't forget to participate in this week's edition of The Skew on Thursday. In honor of Valentine's Day....ROMANCE. What does it mean to you?
Tell us about it and come back to link up. If you don't, there will be no love for you!