Writing in Panera today. About an hour ago this guy—50s, heavy—was sitting at a nearby table, reading. He complained to one of the server guys about something, seemed like a jerk about it. Complained again a few moments later about potato chips. When he got the bag, didn’t say Thank You. Red flag.
When he finally rose to leave, he left his table covered with shit. Panera isn’t that sort of place—everyone eats, then cleans up their stuff. I gave him a look of disbelief, but I wasn’t sure he caught it. Then, as he was leaving, he said loudly, to a restaurant employee, “… and this guy’s giving me dirty looks.”
I turned and said, “Yeah, I’m giving you a dirty look because you just leave your garbage on a table for others to clean up.”
He responded: “If you wanna clean it up, clean it. Go ahead …”
I was dumbfounded. “That’s pathetic,” I said. “You make the guys who work here clean up after you? Really?”
“So clean it,” he said. “Go clean it.”
I wanted to fucking punch the guy in the mouth.
Instead, he walked off.
Once he left, one of the employees approached. “You want a drink?” he said. “It’s on me.”