Actual Customer Interactions: Balding, Ill-Fitting Suit Guy

“Hey, how’re you doing?” I asked the balding man in the ill-fitting suit as he sat down and began spreading the contents of his briefcase along the bar top.

“I need a menu,” was his response, at the same time attaching a Bluetooth to his right ear.

“Alrighty,” said I. “Anything to drink?”

“Iced tea.”

“Sugar or sweetener?”


Awesome. We were off to a great start.

“So, which would you recommend: the fish sandwich or the reuben?”

“The reuben.” My response was instant. “The corned beef is all done in house. It’s incredible, honestly one of the best reubens I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” He was incredulous. “I’m just not sure that’s what I’m in the mood for today.”

Fair enough.

“I’m going to have the fish sandwich. What can you tell me about your warm potato chips?”

“Well,” I started, really, truly not trying to sound like a dick, “they’re potato chips. And they’re warm.”

[Insert blank stare here.]

“They are deep fried…pub chips?” I tried again.

“Sounds good.”

“Okay.” We have a winner!

I went to place his order, eager to return to my very pressing conversation with one of my regulars about A Dance With Dragons, the most recent of George R.R. Martin’s ‘Song of Ice and Fire’ books. Hugely dorky, yet supremely cool books. I’m completely and utterly obsessed. Read the books, and then come talk to me about them. We can dork out together!

When his food arrived, everything looked accordingly from afar, but I didn’t check in with the man in the ill-fitting suit verbally lest I distract him from the impassioned telephone conversation he was having somehow through that weird device in his ear.

I’ll never understand those fucking Bluetooth things. They are right up there with mullets and the WNBA.

“So far, so good?” I managed to ask about mid-way through the balding man’s meal.

“I think I should have gone with the reuben.”

“Not digging the fish?”

“It’s alright.”

“Would you like me to grab something else for you?”


“It’s really no problem,” I offered one last time.

“No, I’ll suffer through it. It’s fine.”

Needless to say, the man suffered through every last morsel on his plate.

“Anything more I can do for you today?” I asked several minutes later, his empty plate in my hand.

He answered by saying, “Please let Tim know that I will be out of the office until roughly three this afternoon.” It took me a second to realize that he was on the ‘phone’ again.

Those fucking Bluetooths.