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Category: Ew, Gross

No, baby, it’s disgusting.

No, baby, it’s disgusting.

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Scene: A lady and two guys at lunch.  One guy appears to be her friend, the other seems to be the partner of the other man, and mostly chews silently.  He must not like the lady.  I know I don’t.  Aside from the awful racist, she is possibly one of the most obnoxious people I’ve ever had the “pleasure” of eating beside.

From the very start, the lady addresses her server as “Baby” and keeps touching his arm.  After he takes her drink order, she begins asking him a bunch of very personal questions.  She is probably the same age as his mother.  He appears mildly uncomfortable but answers the questions politely.  She continues to exclusively call him “Baby” throughout the entire meal.

So, already I kinda hate her.

Her friend at the table orders some kind of cocktail.  When it arrives, she asks if she can try it.  Her friend says sure and passes her the glass.

Lady: Oh, that is disgusting.  All you can taste is the alcohol!  You actually like this?
Friend: Yes, this is what I usually get.
Lady: You like it though?
Friend: …yes.
Lady: It’s disgusting, all you can taste is the alcohol.
[server walks up]
Server: Is the drink not okay?
Friend: It is great, thank you.
Lady:  No, it’s disgusting!  All you can taste is the alcohol.
Server: I’m very sorry!  Uh… I can bring you an extra cup of the mixer to add to it to dilute it a bit if you’d like?
Lady: Yes, please do.
Friend: No, really it’s fine.
Lady:  You really like it like that?
Friend: Yes, it’s good.
Server: I’m happy to if you’d like.
Friend: No, please, it is good.
Lady: [incredulous] You really like it like that?
Server: Okay, well let me know if you change your mind.
Lady: [insistent] It’s disgusting.
Friend: It’s really fine.
[after server leaves]
Lady: You really like it like that?

“Some other kind of South American.”

“Some other kind of South American.”

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Scene: At the table across from me is a lady in her early 30s and several nicely dressed old men (80+).  They appear to have some kind of professional relationship.

[did not hear what led up to this admission – thankfully, I think]
Lady: Oh, no, I don’t interact with Mexicans.
Man A: Really?
Lady: No, never.  Not at all.
Man A: What about in Mexican restaurants?
Lady: Actually, they aren’t usually even Mexican in Mexican restaurants.  They’re some other kind of South American.
Man B: Uh… that is true, they aren’t always Mexican.
[awkward silence from the rest of the table]

Later in the meal, the young lady makes some comment about “Orientals”

Man who has to be at least 90: YOU CAN’T SAY THAT WORD ANYMORE.

Thank you for the lesson on social appropriateness, man who is old enough to have owned slaves.