So, I went to work last night and the hostess said, “Oh man, you know who ate dinner at Hearth last night? Kristen Wiig.”

Really. She has to come in the night before I work? I could’ve checked her coat and slipped her my business card, uggh.

Also, this scenario happened: Around 11, a very stumbly man came in with his friend and leaned close to my face and mumbled something about having drinks at a table. I said I was sorry and he was welcome to get a drink from the bar, but the tables were for people eating dinner. I was confused as to why he was speaking so weirdly, but I didn’t smell anything weird on him, so I thought maybe he was mentally handicapped. He mumbled whodoItalktoaboutthis? And I pointed to our manager, Fred. He grabs Fred’s attention and demands to sit down, but Fred firmly says, “Look, sir, you’ve had enough to drink tonight and you’ll just have to take your business elsewhere. There’s not a place for you here.” (something to that effect.) The guy wanders off, but I was mildly horrified and tugged Fred’s arm and said, “Fred. I think he was handicapped, not drunk. I think he had a speech impediment.”

And Fred just looks at me and is like, “Are you shitting me? Malia. He’s drunk off his ass. Have you ever worked in a restaurant before? He smelled like a pack of cigarettes.” He’s also laughing hysterically at me. It’s lovely. He even goes and asks about the guy and comes back and tells me, “That guy goes to the wine bar all the time and gets wasted. He’s not handicapped. Jesus.”

And then he just laughed about it for the rest of the night and told me he was adding that to his restaurant stories list. I caught him telling it to several other people.

Bleh. You try hard to not seemnaïve but…then you fail. Or, I try anyway.

-Malia

(Source: kristenwiiggle, via musingsinfemininity)