Please Don’t Fondle the Waitstaff

Oh, the challenge of running a restaurant: thin profit margins, iffy produce deliveries, staffing issues—and making sure the friskier customers keep their hands off your waiter’s behind. At least that’s what’s going on in the small-town restaurant run by Haddock, who blogs about it at the Knife’s Edge.

Our lone male waiter is a handsome guy. Late twenties, well built, square jaw, close cropped hair … On his first Friday night he got a table of women in their mid forties … When they left three of them had a devilish, egging her on look in their eyes and the fourth came up to the counter … and grabbed a big handful of his ass. By the time any of us registered what happened the ladies were all downstairs and on their way out the door.

As Haddock points out, the event brought up some interesting gender issues. “[I]f there had been a table of mid-forties men, who did a similar maneuver on one of the young women who work for us, I would have been flying down the stairs to confront the people.” As it was, the issue was dropped, at least for now.

“The funny part is, you know I’m going to see that lady again,” the fondled waiter said to Haddock.

“Well, when you do,” he replied, “let’s hope she’s with her husband.”

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