Old Balls And Loose Skin
While I would have expected to find myself in a tin foil hat, hiding in the bathtub under the mattress I’d lugged in there after this second bout of spotting (third?), I’ve been pretty calm. THIS is my new normal, and until it’s been proved otherwise, I’m going to have to assume that all is as well as it can be.
As quickly as the dreaded spotting began, it stopped. And for once, well, EVER, the nurse at my doctor’s office made me feel better as she was as fairly unconcerned about the state of What Is Up Down There. I took this as a good sign.
All is well for now.
—————
I will now bring you another one from the vaults:
When I was 16 years old, I decided that I wanted a job (foolish, foolish girl), so I went ahead and got myself a job at a fairly upscale restaurant as a hostess, where my brother had at one time been the head chef (can you believe that *I* am related to SOMEONE WHO CAN COOK? Me, either). I worked dilligently as a hostess, until I turned 18, when I moved up in the restaurant industry to be a waitress. This is not, unfortunately, a rant about the Industry, but rest assured, one is in the works.
While working in the Gazebo, I met some interesting people: the biker who pulled out one of my hairs from my head because ‘œIt was bugging him;’ the old man who ordered a scotch, neat and a soda on the rocks and was angered that I charged him for the soda; and various German visitors who didn’t know to tip.
But my all time, most favoritist customer had to be Old Balls.
He came in and sat in my section with a small girl, no older than 3 or 4 who happened to be dressed in her kiddie swimsuit. Finding this a bit odd, I served them without any particular notice. They were as significant as the least significant of my tables ever had been. No compliments, no complaints, no nothing.
Until they left. On a $12 check, I had been left a whopping $2, no big deal. 18 % ain’t bad to me. Along with the credit card slip, however, I had a nasty shock.
HE HAD LEFT ME A NOTE.
Now, it happens now and again, especially with young waitstaff. Some overzealous customer mistakes your attention as a server for sexual attention, and thus I have gotten my fair share of phone numbers. Nothing too striking there. Anyone who has ever served knows to just ignore it, unless, of course you’re in the mood for a booty call. Other than the booty calls, people who leave you their phone numbers are not good for much.
I turned over the 3 X 5 card to read what he had written. Imagine my shock and horror when I realized that it was a pre-printed note, ala Penthouse stats, you know the kind on the centerfold. Now I don’t have the exact card anymore (but I wish like hell that I did; I’d have framed it and put it over our bed), but I’m going to try to reconstruct it from memory:
Hi, you’re an attractive woman who has caught my attention. My name is Richard, and I’m 56 years old. I’m 6’1′, 220, with grey hair and hazel eyes. I like to take long romantic walks on the beach, I love to play chess, and I like to read the Classics. I also like Mom’s Five Alarm Chili and spending quality time with the person I care about. If any of this appeals to you, call me anytime at (630)232-6578.
Hope to hear from you soon!
There are several things that bother me about this ‘œlove note:’
* It’s preprinted, and absolutely no thought has gone into personalizing this, not my name, no description, no nothing
* How can you feel special when you’re reading something Xeroxed?
* How many other random women have recieved one of these notes?
* I am 18 YEARS OLD. THIS GUY WAS OLDER THAN MY FATHER
* Wouldn’t you have tipped better (over 20%) if you were trying to pick someone up?
*The least the man could have done was to print this on nicer quality paper without the jagged ‘œI just cut this with scissors’ edges.
Needless to say, as I’m sure you all are shocked, I am totally the WRONG person to hand notes like this to. Not only am I 18, I’m also vindictive (some things will never change). I think poor, poor, pathetic Richard probably got about 459,005 phone calls to his private voicemail from both myself and my friends.
We’d all get in on the action, calling over and over and over night after night after night. Sometimes we’d be seductive, urging him to call us for a romantic rendezvous, sometimes we’d call and pretend to be scored women, hurt by our tempestuous love affair. I’d even get my guy friends to call and be threatening, ‘œHow could you proposition my girlfriend?’.
I hope that the oldest of the Uncle Pervy’s finally got the hint that picking up women with a shitty love note printed on crappy quality paper was just a poor idea.
Especially to 18 year old female waitresses named Becky.
Hope the nurse is right and everything is ok in the What is Up Down There area.
Also, cute story… probably something me and my friends would have done!! 🙂
Oh girl, you rock! Hilarious.
And I hope you are feeling some semblance of peace about the baby sausage. I am crossing my fingers for you.
I bet he learned his lesson. Or just changed his phone number. But then he’d have to customize another personal card and Xerox up another batch.
Nasty old balls, never a turn on!
As soon as I read the word, “note” I knew it would not end well for that man.
(And I am glad everything seems OK and you’re not stressed.)
You weren’t flattered by that??
Dang…I was a waitress for a long time and never got hit on. I feel left out. : (
OMG that is too funny, I would have totally called that guy and messed with him too. Did anyone actually talk to him? You may have to update the post as that would be funny.
Seriously, you HAVE to be making this stuff up! Only I also worked in as a “hostess” and “server” (yes that’s just fancy talk for busboy and waitress) and I believe you!
I’m glad little bean is okay:)
The pre-printed love note is just about the most bizarre thing that I have ever heard of?
But you and your friends gave Uncle Pervy what he had coming!
(And most importantly of course, I’m so happy all is well, Down Yonder!) 🙂
I wonder how often that Love Note worked?
the only thing that really “bothered” me about the proposition, is that, all things considered-he was trying to pick you up- and he tipped like crap. drop a c-note on the table and we’ll talk (heh)
it’s no wonder he was divorced and alone.
how sick and sad at the same time.
maybe he left you the wrong preprinted card; the one with the ‘sorry I am such a cheap shit…I am divorced and raising a child on my own…’
That’s just GROSS. So I loved it.
Fabulous! That is just what the old pervert needed. You kick ass.
Take care of yourself. . . like you took care of the old perv. 🙂
Ewwww! I think I would have done the same thing you all did. Totally deserves numerous calls!
OMG what a perv! Pre-printed card too, LOSER! He didn’t know about the Beckster apparantly. I can just imagine you guys calling him night after night too. Hey wonder if he’ll find this post when he types “18 year old girls”. Missed you, i suck at commenting I know.
HA! I love creepy old men. They flock to me.
Thinking about your downstairs, all the time!
Oh GAWD, you did exactly what I would have done! How funny. HOpe the spots go away soon.
I would have done everything you did but would have added writing that number on every bathroom wall I went into, plus had my guy friends do the same so he would have men calling looking for a good time too!!!!
LOLOL!!! Too funny!
Please know that I am praying for you and the littlest sausage! God Bless!
It’s so f’ing funny that you & all your friends called him. I so completely love that! What a freak:) Nobody did cool stuff like that when I was a waitress. The only exciting things came from me dropping trays of liquid on people, falling on spills in the bar & quitting in the middle of my shifts, leaving people sitting at their tables wondering where in the hell that waitress went.
When I was 18, I had a friend who wanted to be “more than” and when I said no, he wrote my phone number all over bar bathroom walls in Kentucky. I kept getting lots of strange perverted phone calls and ended up having to get the number changed when a very kind man called me, and told me he found my number written on the bathroom wall at whatever bar he was at. I have no idea why he did bothered to call and let me know something like that, but at least I know how my number got around. =P
OK, am I the only one thinking this guy should not have been allowed to be around the little girl? Seriously? Yuck, yuck and yuck.
What a creepy whackadoodle-doo. Ew. I’m glad you and your friends hounded him to death.
Incidentally, isn’t Sausage now up to being grounded until s/he is 58?
Hugs to you.
Glad to hear all is well!
Should I be hurt or delighted that no ever left me a love note during my short stint as World’s Worst Denny’s Waitress??
Glad to see you’re chillin’ with the little link.
Shade and Sweetwater,
K
Among the many things (but no, never a pre-printed “love” note) that I received while working in the food service industry, the weirdest had to be a card that said, “You have just served the Grand Dragon of the KKK.”
I was a bit freaked.
To quote my dear old friend, William, “Out, out damn spot.”
I can’t believe you got all your friends to call him, that is such great revenge. And he printed these things out? What a pevert. And a loser.
I’m glad the nurse is unconcerned. And glad that you are not in the bath tub under a mattress. And the Reeces rock.
i love that you called him over and over.
and the spotting? i’m sorry that you’re on such a roller coaster.
Eeeewwwwww.
My first reaction.
And my second.
😉
Way creepy – way way way creepy.
Glad the spotting has stopped — I know how unnerving that can be.
And — how did you know you wouldn’t get him answering, instead of voicemail?!
Note to self: be sure your bladder is empty before reading Becky’s blog.
Actually, he sounds pretty good. Have I been married too long? Yeah. I’ve been trying to get my sister to print some of those up for years! I know what someone’s getting for xmas.