An interesting tidbit of history……..

If you ever read the Bible in the original Greek (Of course you have!) you find something interesting about waiters and the early Christians in Acts 6:1. The gentile members were bitching that the Hebrew members were overlooking them in the daily distribution “diakoni” of food. So they hired some guys to make sure the food was distributed evenly. This job was called in Acts 6:2 “diakone” which translates “to serve tables.” Waiter! Check please!

The anglicized version of “diakone” is deacon. A deacon is a member of Holy Orders in most Christian denominations. The mark of that office, the deacon’s stole, is a sash worn diagonally across the body from left to right. It is believed the stole’s origin descended from the towel the “waiters” used to clean the tables. (Those early Christian’s had no forks so it must have been a real mess!) Later the “towel” was a “liturgical napkin” used during the Eucharistic liturgy.

Now a guy named Stephen was one of these waiters. Like most waiters he had the gift of gab. You know what happened to him? He got stoned to death. Just like that poor schmuck waiter in the Soprano’s! (Well Ritchie stoned him and then Paulie shot him.)

I don’t think the other waiters got tipped well either……..

Now I am not getting all religious on you. Just letting you know that even if a waiter works for the Man Upstairs – he still gets treated like shit!

WWJT? – “What would Jesus Tip?”

The Waiter is home sick today. Don’t want to get the Yuppies sick now do I?
Maybe more when I feel better.

The dumbest customers on Earth walked into my place tonight. I knew they were trouble right away. Without a reservation, they wanted to survey the bistro to “get a feel” before they “committed” to eating there. Of course they demanded the nicest table. Since it was Yom Kippur and slow – they got it.

The order was straightforward; two shrimp salads, a ravioli for her and bass for him.

After they had finished the salads, she dropped the bomb.

“Excuse me waiter is there garlic in the ravioli?”

“Yes madam.”

“I don’t like garlic; I have to change my order. What do you have without garlic?”

It’s an Italian restaurant. Garlic is in everything. I wanted to say “Tiramisu” but I bit my tongue.

“Madam, are you allergic to garlic or is this matter of taste?”

She furrowed her brow as if confused and said, “It’s a matter of taste but if I eat it I’ll get sick.”

I explained that every item had or was marinated with some garlic. I told her we could make some spaghetti primavera with fresh tomatoes. No garlic.

“I don’t like spaghetti.” Meanwhile the bell is ringing. Their food is ready NOW.

The husband turned to me and said. “Cancel our order we are going to leave.”

“But sir your food is ready.” I could see his $26 dollar entrée in the trash.

“Nowhere on your menu does it say the food has garlic so we don’t have to pay for it”, the lady said.

Flabbergasted I was ready to say “What the fuck did you expect in an Italian restaurant?” but thought the better of it. I was silent for a moment.

“I don’t like garlic.” She repeated again.

“I bet you don’t like dick either,” I thought. Luckily the owner was in so I dumped it in his lap.

Luigi was pissed. He walked over and asked her if the garlic marinated shrimp in her salad was inducing convulsions. They were red faced. Luigi knew it was a scam. They paid for the salads and wine and left. An 8% tip. I was surprised there was any.

The dishwasher has stripped bass Livornese for dinner.

Assholes.