At one point during Friday night’s dinner, the couple next to us called the waitress over.
“Why did you change the glass size on our cranberry juice refills?” asked the man in a voice dripping with accusation. “These glasses are smaller than the old ones.”
The old ones were sitting on the table. They were shaped differently, it’s true, but if they were bigger than the new ones it was by a nanoliter.
“They actually hold just as much,” said the waitress. “The other ones are water glasses. But I’ll bring you some juice in the water glasses.”
After she left, the couple continued to talk about how appalled they were that the restaurant would try to cheat them like that. The waitress brought them new glasses of cranberry juice, and, to top it all off, told them she wasn’t charging them for the juice. After the couple paid and left the table, I surreptitiously checked to see how much they had tipped her. It was a woefully insufficient amount, by any standards.
God, I hope she spit in those refills.
I hope someone peed in them.
Petty bastards. Aren’t refills free? And even if they aren’t… what cheap fuckwits.
Were they old? Old people don’t have anything else to talk about so they complain.
The past tense is “spat.”
Actually, both “spit” and “spat” are correct. See Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary, Â© 1996, 1998:
“\Spit\, v. t. [imp. & p. p. Spit (Spat, archaic); p. pr. & vb. n. Spitting.]”
I generally use “spit” except in cases of heightened diction, when “spat” seems more appropriate.
God, Faustus, your witty panache always gets me moist near my testicles!
oh wait, I said that out loud didn’t I?
If the refill on the cranberry juice was the biggest problem they have, then they should consider themselves lucky.
Maybe they are crabby because of bladder infections?