This. I didn’t work in hospitality for very long, and I wasn’t the most gracious or understanding undiagnosed autistic person out there, and even I didn’t really give a shit.

Side note: As a bus boy at a very fancy restaurant, I had a little “crumber” for scraping up crumbs, and I didn’t, like, want to marry the crumbs, but, the way the crumber glided across the white cotton tablecloth, which had that soft but firm feel that you can only achieve after a thousand washings…

Let’s just say, you can put up with a lot of shit when you know you got that glide in your future.