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India at the TGIF


My cousin and I hit up a TGIF for lunch. Bunch of Indian dudes waiting tables. Cool. No issues. Just get us a seat.

Oh goodie, a seat on a platform away from the rest of the tables- in the middle of all the corner tables. So, we’re in the center of ALL these tables. Hmm. Kind of calls us out amongst all these other white people, see as we’re the only 2 Indians encircled  by white people. You gotta side with us, right?

Nay.

Not one Indian dude showed us love until I asked a random one to get us service. 15 minutes waiting for anyone to take our order. Bitchass-skinny-Indian-dude finally takes our order and it finally shows up. A good 25 minutes later, while waiting to order another drink, we finally just asked for 2 rounds’ worth each. I mean, it’s lunch. We want to get plastered for the rest of the work day. Work with us Indian brother.

So I had to finally ask other table attendants to get our Indian waiter to get the check. Screw that. We need to get out. We got there at around 12:40, and it was already 1:47. Really? I need to wait this long for service during LUNCH?? LUNCH??? I saw other tables getting more love.

My cousin finally decided he’d go up to the register where waiters manage bills and he handed our table’s bill to whoever was available. His intention was to pay, take a leak, and come back. I had to head on back to the office, um say, last year? So I joined him while he paid and the waiter that served us asked “what’s the matter? Was my service not good? We split the tips…”

I noticed for “gratuity” the bill recommended $15 and my cousin did only $5. I said “dude, your service sucked. Get over it.”

“But we split the tips.”

“We waited forever.” He continued to lull over the bill as we left. F that. I’m in the city, I deserve a little more respect from a fellow Indian. I mean, they have like 20 arms, don’t they?

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