INDIANAPOLIS, IN — Conrad Donner, proud father of three children he regularly forgets the names of, has insisted that he and his wife Karen go out for the night in order to showcase his equally infinite and unfounded knowledge in the culinary arts. They settled on Vino de Bano, a local tapas and wine bar after Conrad combed through the previous reviews he’d written of the restaurant and decided they deserved another chance. Lainey, their server knew that this was going to be a rough ride when Mr. Donner told her how poor her posture was before she had finished listing off the specials.


“I just figured I’d hand them the wine list and then walk away for a while,” Lainey said, “I know they’re not going to tip me, so I could give a shit less what they think. I do feel sorry for that guy’s wife, though. There’s this look in her eyes that’s like a combination of deep regret and resignation.”


Conrad being explaining the menu to his wife as she sat there, nodding in feigned interest. “It’s just so hard to be as cultured as I am and come to a restaurant like this without being personally offended an behalf of the French,” Mr. Donner, like a dick, explained, “did I mention that I had a layover in France years ago? Anyway, this wine list is despicable, I had hoped that they would take the suggestions I’ve given them through Yelp to heart, but it doesn’t appear that way.”


Lainey patiently listened throughout the twenty-five-minute ordeal that was their wine order. Her restraint upon hearing things like “this red one would pair nicely with fish,” “I think my wife would like to start with the dessert wine,” and “Malbec has a ‘k’ at the end” was heroic. Lainey sincerely wishes Conrad’s wife the best and that they get the fuck out of her section as soon as possible.

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