Man Blog Of March
Share
What a wild month across the world. But here at home, things have gotten even stranger. I have a "friend," let's just call him Eric, and his mother, Bamma Garb. Over the weekend, Eric's wife and daughter were under the weather and couldn't make it to Sunday dinner at Bamma Garb's, as scheduled. So Eric invited Garb out to eat. There is a small restaurant chain in Pennsylvania, Hoss's, that offers meals with an optional salad bar, or either one without the other. Eric was happy with just a meal; Garb just wanted the salad bar. It was a normal meal: chewing, small talk, the usual. As the meal drew to a close, Bamma Garb had a glazed, crazed look and asked, "Do you want some dessert?" Eric made it clear that to get dessert, one must purchase the salad bar, which includes dessert. "No, not only do I not want dessert; I am disqualified from getting dessert because I didn't include the salad bar in my meal," he said.
As Eric finished his fries, Bamma Garb began her slow, mission-driven waddle to the salad and dessert bar. Any hope that his words were understood vanished when Garb returned with a plate overflowing with sweets. Somewhere along the way, Garb decided it was acceptable to become one of those salad bar pirates: order a salad bar for one but feed the whole table. For the love of everything holy, he thought, we have reached that stage of aging. Sooner rather than later, her house might be filled with stolen sugar and jelly packets from breakfast restaurants and mismatched flatware from wherever she goes. All he could think was, I hope there isn't a jar of mints by the door. As Garb devoured the sweets, she kept insisting, between bites, that she'd get no-bake cookies for him. Again, the rules had to be explained: by not ordering the salad bar, there was no right to cookies, cakes, or pie. Not only were the cookies unwanted, but they were also just wrong.
I wish the story ended there. Wish in one hand, steal cookies with the other, and see which fills up first. After Eric refused the forbidden cookies, Garb did the unthinkable. She unfolded a napkin. Eric wanted to sprint to the car and never return to Hoss's with Garb, at least until she learned proper behavior. He hoped a manager would escort them out—no luck. Garb placed the cookies on the napkin, rolled it up, and slipped it into her purse. "If you aren't going to eat them, I don't want to waste them," she said. Of course, Eric wouldn't eat them—they weren't his to have and only existed because she ignored the rules. This, he thought, is how society falls. At least the restaurant wasn't crowded, and they knew no one.
As they left, Eric saw a toothpick dispenser and imagined Garb rolling her purse under it, snatching toothpicks lightning fast. Fortunately, the fear of getting caught with cookies outweighed her need for more.
Back home, after some chatting, Bamma Garb announced, "I should get those cookies out of my purse." Eric wondered just how serious her life of crime was. She felt no urgency to hide the evidence or enjoy her loot—it was just another day as a salad bar pirate. Until now, the worst she'd done was set her youngest under a zoo sign reading, THIS TURKEY BITES.
This is a true story. Only one name was changed to protect Eric from seeing his mom's name in the paper. Until next month, stay safe, wash on, and please—don't become a salad bar swindler.
4 comments
I’m also GUILTY AS CHARGED!! Too much temptation indeed. My favorite is the chocolate chip cookies at the Ponderosa food bar!! Can fit quite a few in a napkin.
I can’t help but understand her rationale!😂
This. Is. Hysterical. More so because it hits close to home with my relatives doing similar things.
Oh my! I could tell you stories of what my husband’s mom does in restaurants.
Thanks for the smile you put on my face today!