Meet the pickle pusher

Ha! Made you click. I mean, who could resist clicking on a post entitled ”meet the pickle pusher?”  And as much as I enjoy taking your mind through a trip down gutter lane, sadly this post is really about pickles – but I thought it was slightly amusing enough to warrant a post – so here we go.

About two or three weeks ago, I was sitting down to dinner at a local restaurant with my some of my girlfriends. After we were seated by the hostess, we picked up the menu, chose a bottle of wine and began to look at the fare. Next thing we know, this happy-go-lucky dude with longish wavy brown hair, wearing turquoise jewelry and some other pieces of flair, pops by and greets us. He’s obviously our waiter and he’s a happy mother fucker, I must say. He asks us “how we are doing tonight” and after we respond politely with the usual “great and you?” he’s responds back enthusiastically with “living a simple life and couldn’t be better!” and then begins to tell us a little bit about the specials that night. It’s one of those restaurants with a thematic approach to eating so tonight was the great state of Georgia.

After he runs through the list of specials, he asks us what he could get us to drink and then starts raving about the pickle appetizer. How we “HAD to try the pickles” and that he could ”GUARANTEE that someone would LOVE the deep fried pickles” with a side of ranch. He was so damn enthusiastic that after about a two minute pickle pitch, I had to yell out wearing a smart ass grin, “what are you the pickle pusher?” The grin on my face then transitioned into a “oh shit” cringe after realizing what I yelled out in the busy restaurant, but because I was born without a brain-to-mouth filter and have adapted accordingly, I just laughed it off as did everyone at the table. The quick-wit waiter smiled wide, eyebrows raised, and blushing slightly responded with, “I knew this table was going to be the best in the house.”