the Olive Garden story
When living in Washington state, a friend of ours was hosting her father for a few days. One evening, to introduce him to her friends, we all went out to the nearby Olive Garden.
I like giving servers a hard time. Not harassing them, mind you, just making their evenings more interesting and entertaining. This evening wasn't any exception to the rule, Donna's father notwithstanding. Let me tell you, this server was great! I gave her a hard time and she gave it right back at me. We joked, we messed around, and just generally made the meal merrier.
There comes a time during an Olive Garden meal when the server will come around with a cheese grater and offer freshly grated cheese for salads, soups, and the like. She made her way around the table until she got to me. Now, I didn't have any appetizer that needed cheese, so instead I threw my head back and pointed at my open mouth.
Graciously, she began grating fresh cheese into my mouth.
A few seconds later she said, "Say 'when'."
With a mouthful of grated cheese: "waan"
This was not "when", and so the cheese continued.
I'd been hoisted by my own petard. I sat up and she kept grating cheese: into my hair, down my shirt, and all over me until I'd swallowed enough to actually say "When!". I was thoroughly covered in grated cheese, and I saluted my better.
Wherever you are, cheese-grating waitress, I applaud your aplomb!
image credit: "grated parmesan" by jmackinnell (CC-BY-NC-SA)