I went to a restaurant the other night (it will remain nameless just in
case I am talking about someone’s daughter here) but it was in a town smaller
than Murfreesboro and considered one of their good restaurants. My waitress was
a young girl that was country as a cow bell and really in the wrong profession.
To skip the details and get to the funny part, I was ordering something with a
baked potato and wanted to get a little grated Parmesan to go on it. Here is
the conversation that followed (W-waitress, M-me)
M: Can I get a little grated Parmesan cheese on the side?
W: (with a confused look on her face) Parmeeshian cheese?
M: Yes, just a little on the side for the potato
W: We don’t have none…not really
M: Well I saw you have pasta and thought you might have some that you put
on that.
W: Not really…I mean we have some but it ain’t no good. It’s not the normal
kind; you wouldn’t like it. It’s in pieces.
M: You mean big chunks?
W: No, lots of little pieces but it’s not the normal kind
M: Do you mean like shaved Parmesan? That would be ok.
W: No, it’s just not regular; it ain’t no good, I don’t like it. It ain’t
the normal kind of “sprinkle cheese” that you put on sketty.
(Indulge me while I repeat that sentence:”It ain’t the normal kind of
sprinkle cheese that you put on sketty”).
M: Oh well, just bring me what you have and I’ll try it.
When she brought it to the table, it was …grated Parmesan, plain and
simple. She sat it down and said, “See what I mean? It’s embarrassing ‘cause
that’s all we’ve got to serve with our sketty. I can’t believe we ain’t got a
can of sprinkle cheese in this whole building.”
I suddenly had a flashback to a years ago, in this same town, going to an
“upscale” ,new and short lived Italian restaurant. My waitress had obviously
been hired from Denny’s and was a bit hardened from her years of experience in
fast paced family dining. They had a “build your own calzone” offer so that is
what I did. I didn’t see spinach on the list of choices so I asked for it. She
looked at me and gave me one of those “You don’t get out much do you?” kinds of
looks. “Uh (she said with a little attitude, a slight pause and a very slow
blink while checking one of her back teeth with her tongue-you know the move)
Spinach?...in and Eye-talian restaurant?..........I don’t think so.” Her attitude really kind of cracked me up. I
repeat that sentence often with the person that went with me, even though it
was years ago. “Clueless with attitude” tends to be funny. Thinking back,
“Sprinkle Cheese” could be the daughter of “Uh…not in an Eye-talian restaurant”
lady. . Now that would be ironic but very possible. Just how many turnip trucks
do we have around here and why are people always falling out of them, landing
on their heads and then crossing paths with my life?
