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HARBINGER, PA — Everyone here at SauceOTS is thankful that customers can always be relied on to have the best interests of the people serving them at heart. When one throws Mac’n’Cheese in your face saying ‘It’s too hot for my kid to eat!’ You know that deep down they are just imparting years of scalding wisdom that they have learned the hard way; never working a day in their lives.

 

Anyone who works in the service industry realizes that other people have lives and they themselves just don’t for some reason. What are those people learning and experiencing when they spend their Saturdays at home with their loved ones? What happens between the hours of 4 and 8 on Friday nights? No one in the food service industry knows. For some reason, people go out to eat then. Those people, who live freely in a world built for them get to enjoy stuff like sitting, walking their dogs at regular times, having a healthy circadian rhythm, and consequence-free alcohol abuse.

 

Ah, it’s so nice that our customers take the time out of their carefree days to give us advice.

“I wonder why they’re so slow in here today?” thanks Jim. It is curious, isn’t it?

“I guess it doesn’t matter who comes in first?” sure Susan. Let me find you a time machine.

“Who’s leg do I have to blah, blah, blah, something for something?” My leg Bob, Mine. Thank you.

“Wow I could make a better steak faster than this.” Really Lillian? Really?

 

So today, SauceOTS would like to extend the warmest of thanks, from all of us trapped behind cash registers, grills, and looking longingly out at the world through drive-through windows this holiday season, to all of you out there. As you get your shrimp fajita platters, as you get your pizzas delivered, while you go out for your post Thanksgiving dinner meals or hide out from your extended family at the nearest watering hole, we say go ahead ask, ask out loud:

“I wonder why these guys have to work on a Holiday?”

 

Because Steve, Go fuck yourself. I will fucking find you. I will find your house, and your kids and your stupid dog that you’re always complaining about when I refill your water, and I’ll take all your money, I’ll take all the privilege you had. I’ll take all the times where dad and mom paid for you to go to college, or gave you money for your rent or let you live at home while you ‘worked on it’. I’ll take all that and burn it in your manicured front yard. Then you can come work here with me and you can pull yourself up by bootstraps covered in mop water.

And the next time you say your still ‘pecking’ or you ‘want a minute to think about dessert’ I get to say: What the fuck is that? Are you a bird? Don’t you realize that this is a business? Your shirt, hat, bumper sticker, and smart fucking mouth say that you want to create jobs and support local small business. Go Fuck yourself. It’s a goddamn restaurant not a shrine to your own hubris that awaits the ridiculous fascination you have with the question ‘How much processed cheese can I eat before I really regret it?” Go Fuck Yourself. Pay us what we deserve.

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