During Mother's Day brunch, a family prays over their plates of blueberry and mango french toast, poached eggs and Cobb salad. I have never seen a table do this before, and their reverence for food impresses me. It's as if these people are giving thanks not just to God, but to the servers, cooks and hostesses who have made their meal possible.

The family finishes their prayer, and as I turn to leave, the father barks at me, "Hey, waiter!" Jesus Christ. "These eggs are overcooked! They are disgusting! Send them back." Right. Of course.

I've been dealing with assholes like this guy for the past few days. I'm working full-time this week, and I also am moving into my new apartment, so please understand if my posts are either numbingly work-related or entirely nonexistent. <3

Addendum: A little advice to all of you servers out there. Respond to "Hey, waiter!" with "Hey, customer!" It's worth the subsequent five percent tip.