NEW YORK, NY -- Dale Conrad, a regular at Hot Cross Buns, hoped that his lunch break there would be just as routine as always. Unbeknownst to him, every single server on staff hate him, think he’s a total pig, and plans to give him a taste of his own medicine today. Stacy Harper, his server today and “go to gal” has been waiting for this day for a long time. “If he never comes back again after this, my life will be that much better. I don’t need some dude telling me to smile more, trying to rub my back while I’m bussing his table, or talking about how much I look like his daughter. The worst thing is he stacks plates with the silverware in between the plates are you a Neanderthal?”

	The grand scheme was laid at the host stand, when host Peter Jones smacked Dale on his ass as he was being led to his table and said: “Hope you like what you see, big guy. Because I sure do. Now you park that fine ass right here at table 69; if you know what I mean.” Visibly distressed by this turn of affairs, Dale took his seat timidly and waited as his server, Stacy approached. As Stacy handed him his menu, the plot thickened, much to Dale’s incredulity: she informed him that he’s far too beautiful to be eating at a place like this. 
	Dale had never been spoken to like this, his pulse rose, suddenly every staff member around him was a potential threat. What would the busboy do when his time came? What about the sommelier? What’s a sommelier? Would they say something awesome like: “Let’s get you something that pairs with all those surf and turfs you order with that weird thrusting motion.”
	It was like being serviced but you had to think about it. Like how the court said I had to treat my ex-wife after all those phone calls came to light.
	“I’m a person, not an object goddammit,” Dale told Sauce On the Side. “I don’t care how cute Stacy’s friend thinks I am, I don’t want his number. I have never felt so disrespected as a customer. I don’t want to tell Stacy what time I’m getting out of here, or if I’m actually going to use her friend’s number. What kind of nonsense is this?”
	Stacy is overjoyed that her grand scheme to dissuade Mr. Conrad from ever returning to the restaurant is taking. “One down, far too many to go,” Stacy said, “but I’ll take a win when I get one. Seriously, I already deal with creepy dudes every single day. When I clock in, though, it feels like I’m running my life on hard mode with the super creep expansion pack on. I think we’ve finally got a way to fix that now.”

      
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