Have some manners, for the love of God.

Today we will be taking a page from the book of Ben and his blog.  I am going to rant a little.

Now, I am the first to admit that I can be easily annoyed (not to be confused with easily annoying, though that is a little true, too).  I have more than several pet peeves.  Loud breathers, people who refuse to pick up their feet when they walk, skipping CD's, the overuse of the word "besties", the list goes on and on.  

One of my pet peeves that has reached dangerous levels in my old age is the lack of manners people have.  More specifically, the lack of manners people have to those serving them.  Cashiers, taxi drivers, mail carriers, receptionists, waiters.  Focusing on waiters for this post.

Let's forget for a moment that the waiter or waitress is a freaking person and should be treated with respect until they, I dunno, run your grandmother over with a car or some other respect-stripping act.  Instead, we'll pay attention to the fact that, at the very least, this person is handling your food.  

They have the ability (and determination due to your LACK OF MANNERS) to add any sort of foul substance to your plate without your knowing.  Watch the movie Waiting... if you don't believe me.  Talk to anyone who has worked in the food service industry.  They'll tell you, the nice patrons get extra bread rubbed with garlic and butter.  The rude ones get day-old breadsticks that rolled under the speed rack in the walk-in rubbed with murky dishwater and hatred. 

Ben and I were at a small noodle house for dinner yesterday at the Great Wall Mall.  The staff was attentive, smiling and accommodating, even to the white girl.  I couldn't have been more pleased.  

We were having a lovely dinner.  And then, this family comes in.  A mother, father and two young children.  


Immediately, the father starts ordering around whatever waitress he could find.  They're all there to serve him, right?  Put this chair here.  Get me some water.  I want lids and straws for my children.  Not a please or thank you or smile anywhere.  I gripped my chopsticks a little tighter.

I couldn't decide what pissed me off the most.  They interrupted my dinner?  The idea that his children will grow up to demand things just because daddy did?  Or the fact that this man felt he was right to treat people this way?  Who the hell was his mother?  I'd like to lodge a complaint.

Sometimes I think that people assume because they ask for something that it negates the need to add a please.  That it puts them in a place of requesting and humility in a way.  May I have the House Chow Mein?  Yeah, I don't care how you ask it.  That sentence needs a please, dammit.  Also, when you get brought anything, water, extra napkins, your bill, you say thank you.

Anytime I see or hear someone being rude it makes me overcompensate.  Well, comment loudly to Ben that people suck and then overcompensate.  The words my parents (and Joe Scruggs) taught me to use come out in full force, as if apologizing for my fellow man and his moron family.  

It makes me happy to think that one day they'll get theirs.  Probably in the form of dandruff atop their spaghetti or crumpled napkins from a back pocket.  Or a paisley boot to the back of the head.  (See how I got the boots in there at the very end?  You're welcome.)    

Have some manners, for the love of God.