Usually, we have some great regulars, as I've mentioned previously. Last night though was the night of disgruntled customers. Being a Sunday, I get the bar all to myself, with Dan coming out and acting as manager of the restaurant. The regulars come in and usually give me a pretty lucrative dinner crowd, cheerful and talkative, all in all it's usually a good night. Last night, however, was an exception to that usual occurrence. Marty came in for his usual beef ribs, club soda and cappuccino. As always, the cappuccino has to be piping hot or he sends it back. Marty is a 70 year old widower, his 4th wife passed away 10 years ago, and he quit his alcoholism 5 years ago, before I had the pleasure of meeting him. Apparently I missed quite a show. He attended the bar regularly, and was booted from the premises just as regularly. Now, he drinks all my club soda and tips a bit less than modestly. But I'll get to Marty later. He wasn't the first to start a scene, I just think that feeling left out, he wanted to join in on the fun. First it was Mike and his usual burger incident. He attempted to send the burger back to be done "right," but I told him I'd refund his money and wouldn't give him the burger. If you don't like the way we cook the burger, don't order the burger. He was surprisingly quiet at my decision to cut him off. He didn't complain or try to argue his point at all, he just returned to sipping his coca-cola.

After putting Mike in his place, Marty began to complain about his broccoli rabe side dish being too cold. I sent it back to be heated up, even though it was piping hot already. I could see the steam. It came back probably no hotter than before, and he was content. His cappuccino came out, too cold, and I sent that back to be reheated. He enjoyed it at first, but said that it became cold too quickly. I asked him if he seriously burnt his tongue when he was younger, if he had no feeling in his mouth. I asked if I could experiment by placing his tongue on the milk steamer and see if it doesn't melt away. He didn't laugh.

John had a glass of wine and was feeling especially talkative, telling the others at the bar how the food here is about average. He says the restaurant down the street has better sausage and ziti, yet for some reason he comes here to get his. Go figure. I asked him why he doesn't go there for his sausage and ziti, and he replied, "I like the people here better," to my reply "they may like you better over there."

I got a few complaints and Dan told me I should go home and get some sleep, come back happy. I told him that was a good idea....