This was sent to me after Thanksgiving in 07, and I saved it for when I got this page up and running, hence the “yesterday” at the beginning.

“Yesterday my husband and I went to a T’giving Day buffet with his mother and Jake her husband. Jake is kind of an old-school blowhard, but he has a good heart and over the past couple of decades I’ve come to love him dearly. Yesterday I had a hard time feeling very loving. I wanted to slap the shit out of him, but there wouldn’t be anything left but a pair of boots and a mouth.

We arrived at the buffet, and Jake was apparently already prepared to have a bad time. He and Mom claimed that the place lost their reservations for the past two years. And I’m left wondering, “Why did they want to come back???”

Because the reservations Mom made a year ago were misplaced, we weren’t seated in the main dining room. Instead, we were put in a basement conference room with a separate buffet setup. Not a bad room, by the way—lots of big windows that looked out on to the woods, nice decorations, etc.

Jake was mad that we didn’t get the main dining room. He got really snippy when the six of us (another couple, friends of theirs, came along) were seated at a table for 8. We were told that they might seat other people at the two remaining seats (didn’t happen). He started yelling at the server, a nice girl named Ashley. She’s very apologetic and extremely professional. She got our drink orders and we went to the buffet. The line is long, of course, and Jake’s complaining about that too. When we got back to the table our drinks were there except for Jake’s iced tea. He went on a rant about that—because of course it was a deliberate omission, right?

All through the meal (which was identical to the meals we’ve eaten there for the past five years) he complained and barked at Ashley. The meat wasn’t hot enough. The bread was the wrong kind. There were no goddam desserts (they were right behind him).

I barely said two words, and I’m usually a chatty Kathy. Jesus. I’m thinking, “We’re all together. Nobody’s sick, nobody’s dying. We have more food than we need. We have plenty of clothing, warm homes to sleep in, decent jobs, people who love us. It’s Thanksgiving. Shut the fuck up.”

After the meal he went to pay his and Mom’s tab, and he bitched at the cashier. She got an assistant manager and he bitched her out while a line of people waiting to pay (including me) stood there. Then he got another (presumably higher level) manager and bitched her out in the hallway. She offered to comp his meal and he still wouldn’t shut up. The buffet is part of a state park inn, so he wound up at the front desk, bitching out someone else. He did all of this loudly.

In twenty-two years I’ve never seen him this way. This is someone I love and respect, and for a moment I hated him. He was lording it over every staff person he met. And when he wasn’t barking at them, he was shouting to anyone in hearing distance about what a poorly run operation it was. I wanted to crawl under the nearest rug.

What kept running through my mind was a brief conversation we had on the way to the inn. We passed a small Baptist church Mom & Jake used to go to and my husband asked Mom why they no longer attended that church. Mom said, “Well a big reason is because we found out the pastor was gay.”

Silence for a few seconds (really, what the hell can I say to that? Half of the people in my church are openly gay.). The Jake says, “Well, they started preaching about doing what you think is right instead of preaching on the Bible, and I just couldn’t stand for that.”

The whole time he’s being so shitty to everyone at the inn, I wanted to shout, “What would Jesus do, asshat? Would your Christ be all about his fucking rights to have perfectly hot turkey?”

No, I didn’t. I love my mother-in-law and could see how uncomfortable she was. No need to add to her misery. But I did go find Ashley and apologize. And I left her a $10 tip on a $30 tab.

We went back to Mom & Jake’s house for a little while after dinner. Jake was still worked up, and started talking about going back to cooking T’giving day dinner at their house next year. I couldn’t help it. I said (loud enough for Jake to hear), “Well, Mom, if you do that, at least if the meat is too cold he can haul his behind to the kitchen and heat it up himself.” My husband giggled and elbowed me.

Honest to God, I don’t ever want to go out to eat with them again. I’d rather have them over to our house. At least if he starts a bitchfest like that I can move his ungrateful ass out to the front porch.”

Mary

No tag for this post yet.