Friday, July 15, 2005

Octopussy, and other James Bond Pickup lines.

Every Friday I make my weekly attempt at being social. I go out to lunch with a group of about 6 co-workers, some of them are not interesting to me whatsoever and manage to irritate me most of the time, the remaining half are generally decent and can every once in a while hold a decent conversation.

This Friday, it was Chili's. Chili's is alright, not in any way a delicatessen masterpiece, there steak is generally too dry and overcooked, their coffee is crap, and their "loaded" potatoes are something out of a cardboard box. Given the limit of options in our area though, this is prime rib at the country club while getting a blowjob in comparison to the alternatives.

The one bright side of our lunch was the adorable blonde waitress that was serving us. She wasn't "bubbly" but she did wear a continuous smile which I can on the right people find attractive. She wasn't in any way amazing, and probably just skimmed my requirements for someone I'd date as far as attractiveness goes, but her cute and not-overly-happy personality made the meal enjoyable. That, and of course the inevitable constant bitching about managers, bosses, and absent co-workers of our office.

At the end of the meal, during which she refilled my diet coke twice (read: TWICE) we were preparing ourselves to head back to to the hellhole that is the headquarters to our pathetic careers we were given our checks. I, being poor and reliant on plastic had a separate check. I noticed she wrote "Thanks!" with a little smile drawn next to it on my check, then signed her name, "Michelle".

I smiled for a brief moment as I thought we'd work up some kind of connection, possibly shared a moment or two while she was bringing us more salsa chips. Then I saw the other receipt for the rest of the table and realized she did the same thing on theirs.

Fucking whore. I gave her a $5 dollar tip and left the check on the table.

My meal was ruined by my inflated and then shattered ego and I followed the group of co-workers out of Beelzebub's restaurant and to our cars. That's when I saw the waitress running out of the restaurant after us.

This brought back memories of my days in Vegas, and my first reflex was to run to the car and pull out as fast as possible from whatever legal recourse was about to be thrust upon us.

"I'm in NY now, I'm in NY now" I repeated to myself slowly resisting the urge to tackle her to the ground and smash her cute bubbly face in to oblivion.

"You forgot to sign this."

"Hmm, uh what?" I skillfully responded.

My co-workers laughed it off and continued walking as I slowly took the check and the pen from her to sign it. Then I saw it, my name, written right there where it should be, and under it...

"Michelle, 555-5555 call me =)"

Oh, the joy. How very James Bond of her to trick my co-workers in to walking away as to avoid my embarrassment. Oh how considerate.

I ripped off the number and gave her smile and plodded on to my car, feeling very smug in the fact that I had impressed someone else enough with my mere presence that she felt she couldn't let this obvious amazing thing walk away.

My head smacked against the side of the car window and I woke up with a jump. It's only a 5 minute drive back to work but the four beers I had over lunch had me dozing off. I tried to figure out what happened, and realized the entire situation that had happened after I left the restaurant had all been a dream. I signed the check inside, paid, and left. Nothing exciting was going to happen today to top off my fantastic bloody week.

Oh well, at least I have two and a half hours of dozing left before I can go home.

I fucking hate Fridays.

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