Last weekend on Saturday morning me, Ismael, and Marty were sharing a lox and onion omelet, and talking waitering. If you didn’t know, Ismael is an Egyptian in his fifties, Marty a Jew around the same age.
I don’t remember exactly what was said, but I remember it was something like this:
*****
Marty
ME
So Marty, do you serve the beef stew?
MARTY
Sure I do. You don’t?
ME
No. I don’t. Ishmael do you serve it?
ISMAEL
No, I do not.
ME
I don’t think its good. I’d serve it if it was good.
ISMAEL
I like it, it tastes fine.
ME
He just doesn’t serve it because it takes too long to make and then he has to deal with those fucking idiots on the back counter. Right?
Ish and I
ISMAEL
Yes. They always mess up the order.
ME
What about dessert? Marty, do you serve dessert?
MARTY
Just Cheesecake, cookies, ruggaluch and babka.
ME
So what do you tell them then?
MARTY
I tell them they should go across the street to the Laboratorio Gelato.
ISMAEL
(totally disgusted)
I can’t believe you say this Marty.
ME
What? I tell them to go there all the time. It gets them off my table too.
ISMAEL
I know you would say this. But, I cannot believe that you, that you Marty could say such a thing.
MARTY
What can I say? I like to inform my customers of the best stuff around.
ISMAEL
Your job is to make money for this place.
MARTY
I don’t want to give the customers garbage.
ISMAEL
Everyday the people eat garbage, just sell it!
***fin***
[Marty Photo (c) Baldomero Fernandez “Anatomy of a Delicatessen“]
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