Senior Citizens Make Me Nervous

There must have been a 50% off coupon for my club mailed to all AARP members this week because my whole station smelled like old people yesterday. You know the smell? A little bit of moth ball and Lysol with a hint of poo? Woman at table 13 last night. I give her my usual routine about the two-beverage minimum and how it would be best if she could just tell me both drinks at the beginning so I don't have to crawl over everybody and yell into her hearing aid to ask what she wants in the middle of the show. She seemed confused by me asking what she wanted for her second drink even though she hadn't had her first one. I felt bad. I know how confusing things can be for older people. Remote controls, computers, garage door openers...the world can be a scary place, old lady. She ordered a tonic water. So I asked her if she wanted that for her second drink as well. And then she asked me something that no one has ever asked me before while I was waiting on them. She looked up at me with sad sorrowful eyes and cocked her head to the right a bit. And then she asked me. She said, "Is tonic water a laxative?" Uh, what? What the fuck is the old lady asking me? I didn't know if she wanted it to be a laxative because she needed to make a Grandma Poopy Pie or if she was scared it was a laxative because she had already had her daily recommended allowance of laxative and one more bit of laxative would make a big embarrassing scene. I told her quite honestly that I didn't know. In my head I was thinking "oh if this lady takes a fucking dump here, I will cut an old bitch." She decided that just to be on the safe side she would have a bottled water for her second drink. Just to be on the safe side? It sounds to me like Grandma McGrunty needed to skip the show tonight and make a date with her dear friend Mr. Toilet.

The show went on without incident. She flagged me down for the check before the show was over because she was in a hurry. It doesn't take much thought to figure out what she was in a hurry to do. She bolted out as soon as the show was done. I warily approached her seat scared of what I might find when I looked down at it. Thankfully, it was clean and dry. I hadn't been that concerned about the dryness of a seat since two weeks ago when this lady was squirming all over chair as she was watching a Peter Allen tribute show. The guy singing was Australian and I just wanted to remind her that this guy wasn't really Peter Allen. He's dead. Didn't matter to her though. She was hopping and jumping all over that seat and I was just glad that any possible wettness stayed in her panties.

I have since done some exhaustive research (I googled it) and found no link to tonic water being a laxative. So rest assured, people. Feel free to drink those gin and tonics without any fear of softened stools or unsightly bowel movements. You're welcome.

Yes, the coffee is hot, bitch

I don't know what it is with old people, but I hope when I am old (in like six years from now) I don't lose my taste buds. I guess after living through the depression and having to eat boot soup and newspaper sandwiches, they just don't have the ability to taste anymore. Old people always send shit back. It's never hot enough. Yesterday this lady asked me for a cup of coffee making sure to tell me she meant hot coffee and not iced coffee. Like I am an idiot. So I got her coffee and made sure there was steam coming from it because when there is steam that means it's hot, right? Well, not when you serve it to an old dinosaur like this lady. Seriously, I think she was a first grade teacher for the caveman. She calls me over to tell me the coffee is cold. Not warm or luke-warm or even room temperature, but cold. She acted like it was one step away from being a coffee popsicle. So I smiled and resisted the temptation I had to knock her fucking false teeth out and went to get her some more coffee. OUT OF THE SAME POT. And guess what. By some miracle of miracles this coffee was much better. It must have been a magic freaking coffee pot that made it's contents change temperature by 20 degrees in a matter of two minutes. I was nice to her because old people make me sad. I just made fun of her in the side stand because she had a huge herpe on her lip that she probably picked up from blowing men for apples in 1933. "Blowjob for an apple, sir?" I can just see her. She counted out her pennies for my tip and shuffled out of my station. She should have saved the money she spent on coffee and bought some fucking Abreva for that cold sore. It was so big, I almost gave it it's own menu.