Monday, October 22, 2007

I don't have a single Barbie doll in my bedroom, so knock it off

One of the new servers at the restaurant where I work has called me "girl" several times. At least once a day since he started working there. The first day I worked with him, I asked him to use my name and reminded him that I am well over eighteen years old (and by the way, he's new here), but he just smiled and fluffed his spiked-up crew cut, being sure to flex his bicep as he did so, and said, "Sure thing."

Apparently, what he meant by this was, "You're obviously attracted to me but overwhelmed by my charm and good looks and unable to come up with any witty banter because you're just so darned nervous around me, little girl." So he still refers to me and to the other women I work with as girls. He usually does it in the dining room, in front of guests, where he'll say something like, "Oh, I see the girls brought your food out. Did they get everything you needed?" to his table. Or "I'll see if this nice girl can get that for me," when his guests ask for refills or cocktail sauce.

Since we are in the dining room, in front of guests, usually near tables full of my guests who I expect to pay me, I have refrained from taking him down.

However, yesterday, after he failed to remember my name three times in fifteen minutes, I called him "boy."

In the diningroom. In front of his table. And I did not refer to him as a boy - no, I called him "boy" as if it was his name.

He didn't notice. Well, no. He did notice. I could tell by the confused look on his face, but I think he just thought he didn't hear me correctly or that maybe I thought his name was Roy or something because I couldn't possibly have been such an insolent child, now could I?

But I'm going to keep it up. Until he stops. I'll keep you posted.

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