Why I gotta be a hater?
I was having brunch at American Steak and Eggs today, and there was this super bitchy lady who came in with her husband and baby. The complained about everything, only smiled like one time in an hour and a half, and looked at her husband like she hated him through the whole meal. She was also super-bitchy to the waitress and threw a fit because the girl didn’t know what she was talking about when she asked for “soya milk.” I felt pissed off, and wrote something into Shanghaiist’s anonymous tip box:
To the American woman who threw a fit at American Steak and Eggs when the waitress didn’t know what soy milk was: If this woman spoke fluent English, she’d have a better job, one where she earned more than 150 dollars a month and didn’t have to serve people like you. As another diner, listening you complain about everything and sit there scowling at your husband like he was a turd on a hot road didn’t enhance my meal.
Now I feel a little guilty about it, and wonder if I could be getting the waitress into trouble in some way. As for the American woman, she ought to feel bad. Plus, if she can’t live without soy milk, she should look up how to say it. It’s not hard. But I still feel kind of guilty for writing that.