An Open Letter to Brunch…

October 1, 2007 at 12:57 am 2 comments

Dear Brunch,

Fuck you.

Every weekend you saunter in all beautiful and delicious looking, wooing all the customers into ordering you.  And every time someone says “I’ll have the Brunch…” I think Of course you will.

You, Brunch, are a slut.  Stop cozying up to the customers with your attractive array of fruit and flash of greens.  Stop luring them with your creamy scrambled eggs, telling them they can have what ever kind of scone they want. Just stop it.

You know why, Brunch? Because you’re high maintenance, that’s why.  We need three people to prepare you in a timely fashion, and even then when you strut around in-front of everyone the way that you do, we just can’t make you fast enough because everyone in the place has ordered you.

Then people get all up in my craw about how it’s taking too long.  We’re not fucking McDonald’s, okay? I’m not thawing an EggMcMuffin back here! What I’m doing takes time, and love, and as little rage as possible.  Because when I start making Brunches with RAGE NO ONE IS GONNA HAVE A GOOD TIME.

It’s always about you.  BRUNCH. You’re sooooooo special, aren’t you? Everyone shows up just for you, and nobody even thinks twice about who prepares you.  If I’m not making Brunch, who is? No one. That’s who.  You know what that means? It means I’ve never, ever, after making 10,000 brunches, EVER eaten one myself.  Sure I’ve snacked here and there, but I’ve NEVER experienced the pleasure of sitting down with a nice HOT NEVER BEEN RE-HEATED (6 times) IN THE MICROWAVE coffee on my nice Sunday-off.  Cause I’ve never had a Sunday off.  Nor a Saturday.  And those are the only days we serve you, Brunch.

So, yeah.  If you could stop whoring it up with the customers, that would be greatly appreciated.  Then maybe I wouldn’t have to scream about jamming forks in my eyes and the kitchen wouldn’t look like Cosovo when we’re done at the end of the day. That’d be great.  Or if you could even just help us clean up, that would be a step in the right direction.

Jerkstore.  You know what I mean, don’t pretend you don’t get it.

.megan.

P.S. I hate you.

P.P.S Since you have such a nice relationship with the customers, maybe you could suggest to them to calm the fuck down on their days off, and let them know that other people don’t get to spend Sunday at the cute little Cafe down the street, and that those people preparing their food probably haven’t had breakfast yet, and probably won’t eat for about six hours.  Remind them that that would be a really sucky position to be in, and that service people are a lot nicer when they have good blood-sugar levels and really nice, respectful customers around.

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Entry filed under: .

An Open Letter to Myself ?… set the mood: the sound of my own ignorance

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Albert Scherbinsky  |  October 7, 2007 at 3:00 am

    It’s about fucking time somebody laid the straight goods on brunch. Brunch has been tarting it up, thinking nobody would notice for too long. Brunch is toast.

    Albert

    Reply
  • 2. corinariddle67541  |  April 8, 2016 at 10:57 am

    I like rock and rap mabey even. I like Jump (genere:hiphop)5, toby mac (genere rock ro rap), tbone (rap mor elei ksuper rap, well its fast, and his songs are soemtiems a little wierd, kinda like you are isaac) and petra (rock), all christian genere. Come on http://tropaadet.dk/corinariddle67541081845

    Reply

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