To the Luce Hostboy with the Attitude:
I ran in tonight, all flush with the success of finding a parking spot right out front! of Pizza Luce! In the warehouse district! and took a look around the restaurant before heading back up front to get a table. You trailed me up to the podium, asking, as if I was clueless and incapable of understanding the rules:LHw/A: Um, did you want a table?
Me: Yeah… you didn’t see a couple girls come in, did you?
LHw/A: (Slowly, with a precise blend of derision and couldn’t-be-bothered-to-give-a-fuck) Um, there have been a lot of girls in here tonight.
Me: (Pausing to swallow anger) Right. Like, in the last five minutes. Whatever. There’ll be three of us.
Maybe you’re bitter because someone forgot to tell you that the angry loner mystique wears off around 16 years of age, when most boys learn that a little enthusiasm goes a long way towards getting girls out of their pants and into yours. Maybe the menacing tattoos and dyed-black hair are supposed to make you look a lot more threatening than your scrawniness will allow. Maybe you’re getting mixed up about the distinction between ‘badass’ and ‘complete asshole’. Whatever the reason, your attitude totally sucked.
It only took you a minute to realize it, though. You knew I was pissed, preferring the email on my phone to conversation with you while you set the table. Then you decided you’d be friendly.
Dude, if you’re going to be an asshole, at least be consistent about it.
Jenni