I recently took my friend to a fancy-pants Asian restaurant in Minneapolis. As I type this I realize that I have no real idea what makes a restaurant "fancy-pants". (I'm used to eating at places where you have to fill up your own drink. There are pros and cons to this. CON: Physical movement. UGGG! PRO: Diet Pepsi, Mello Yello and Hawaiian Punch all in the same cup! Yeah, I'm a bit of a Mixologist.) I guess I was just impressed because the waterboy filled our waters up every two seconds. Like it never got below half an inch below the lip of the glass. And they were huge glasses too. It was pretty obvious that he was one of the top ranked water-pourers in the world (featherweight).
So the waterboy was filling up our glass of water for the ninth time in seven minutes, and as he walked away I quickly said to my friend: "CHUG IT!" We both slammed our waters as fast as we could. A minute later the waterboy came back.
And he looked...SO.....SAD.
Like devastated. I honestly felt a pang of guilt. If he had a samarai sword I guarantee he would have done himself in.
"I've dishonored my family!" SLICE! Right in the stomach. Goodbye featherweight ranking and goodbye Brita sponsorship.
From that point on, he literally ran to our table every 30 seconds to make sure our glasses were full. Then he'd turn on a dime and dart off. Towards the end I caught him peeking his head around the corner a couple times. It was all very Scooby Doo-ish.
Hopefully someday he can rise in the ranks again. It might take years. Maybe he can win the championship when he's 45 and then sell Lean Mean Water Filtering Machines on cable?