Ain’t Nothin’ Cookin’

Many years ago, I was unceremoniously working a brunch shift at a popular bar.  It was a perfect summer day – mildly hot.  Fans were slowly spinning.  The band was kicking some mellow samba tunes with catchy beats. A light breeze was rhythmically rolling through the open windows.  It wasn’t very busy… just a few shoppers strolling in and out, here and there.

In walks a pleasant looking couple – probably in their mid-30’s.  They belly up to the bar.  I bust out with my normal, inviting smile and greeting.  Next, something completely uncharacteristic flies out of my mouth far, far before my cranium has chance to filter or stop it.  It’s like one of those instances where you knock over a priceless vase, your mouth goes agape, and you dive to catch it before it goes kaboom – all in super-slow-ass motion.  You know you’re doing wrong as you’re doing it but are powerless to stop it.

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