An Open Letter to San Francisco’s Cocktail Wait and Bus Staff:
Dear Service Persons,
First of all, let me begin by saying that I appreciate everything you do for me. My friends ask for sugar, sugar is brought in no time flat. We special order salads, no this, only that, extra this on the side. No Problem, you say with a smile. The food comes, just as we ordered it. You bring bloody marys topped with salty pickled greenery. When I’m finished, you take them away, chewed celery stub and all.
I like to think I show my appreciation for all this with expressions of gratitude, smiles, and most importantly, generous tips.
I only have one complaint. Just one small request.
If, on my table, you see a pifflesquit, laboriously twisted and shaped into the resemblance of a parlor chair, please, oh please, DO NOT CLEAR IT FROM THE TABLE!
Thank you for your continued efforts,
Three times this weekend, my pifflesquit chairs were swiped from my table and thrown away. Twice, they were recovered. The third time, I had conceded defeat to San Francisco’s extremely fastidious cocktail waitresses. Those girls, they like to keep a clean table.