When I Say It's Hot, It's Hot

Dear Customer:

When I tell you something is hot, please believe me. Just because you see me holding a hot dish does not mean that your fingers have the same super-human strength to withstand heat like mine do. You see, I hold hot plates all the time, so my fingers have built up a tolerance to this silly thing called fire. Is it sad that I no longer have fingerprints? Sure, but it allows me to carry things to your table after they have sat under the heat lamp for twenty minutes and it's all worth it. When your food is ready, the cooks put it "in the window" under this big strong light bulb that will keep things nice and warm until I finally get around to bringing it to your table. It will sit there and sit there until you ask me, "Is our food ready yet?" When you ask me that, it is my cue to bring it to you because as a server I like food to sit in the kitchen for as long as possible until I know you really want it. Consequently, the plate gets really really hot. However, since I have been doing this since I was a fresh-faced young boy of 20, my fingers are callused, bruised tough, angry and rough. They're like my heart.

When I approach your table with steaming piles of nachos, wings or calamari and I say "Be careful the plate is very hot," I mean it. You don't have to reach out and touch it to verify what I said is true because you will more than likely burn your hand and then shoot me an angry look that you will then have to take back because you will realize I just fucking told you the stupid ass plate was hot, you dumb as a bag of hair ass wipe. It's just not hot to me. Please don't be jealous of this amazing talent I have to be able to hold hot things because it is nothing. The cooks in the kitchen can practically reach into a vat of hot oil to pull out french fries. They can stir pots of soup with Their arms. They can light cigarettes just by touching then with the tips of their fingers. They are the true heroes.

In closing, let me say one more time: when I say something is hot, it is hot. Don't touch it. I will laugh at you when you recoil in pain and I won't feel bad about it. i will not try to hide my laugh either. i will say something like, "See, I told you it was hot. What, you didn't believe me? Let me get you some butter to put on that burn, it will make it all better." And then I will laugh again, because putting butter on a burn is an old wives tale. It will make it burn more. If you are dumb enough to ignore my warning about a hot plate, then maybe you will be dumb enough to smear butter on a burn.

love,
The Bitchy Waiter


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