Dishing Out A Lesson in Politeness
“Great!” I said, still smiling. “I’ll get that for you right away.” And then I leaned a little and let my smile fade. “And if you ever snap your fingers at any of our staff again, I will personally escort both of you out of here and you will not be welcome back again. Ever.” Both of their faces went from smug to surprised. Like they’d never been told “no” before or, more to the point, like they’d never been called out for being unnecessarily rude. I straightened up, brought my smile back and said, “Just the cheese? Anything else right now?”
When Ali, Casey, and I were in college down in central Illinois, we lived in this great place just a block off campus. It was situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town smack dab in the middle of Greek Row, snuggled between the Beta and SAE houses—a modest, three-bedroom house with a front porch and back patio, and yard that made it ideal for barbecues and other themed or not themed parties.