Click! Click! Hoy! Hoy! Hey, waiter!!! Yes, sir? And about time. Didn't you see me clicking?
I presumed you were having some kind of fit, sir. Gentlemen often do when they've had a drink too many.
Whaddya mean, a drink too many? Haven't started yet. Three bottles of champagne. Pronto! That's not a brand we stock, sir.
Pronto? It means chop chop. Rattle your dags. A into G. I'm afraid I can't serve you any more wine, sir. Now, look here, sport. You know who I am?
No, sir, I don't, but I think of you as the drunk at table 15, and that's probably about all I need to know.
Well, you'll know some more now, mate. Here's my card.
Mmmm. Unusual card, sir.
Whaddya mean? Can't you read plain English?
Indeed I can, sir. According to this card you are Celeste of Pampers Massage Parlour, ''toys a specialty'', and it appears to be a ''customer loyalty'' card.
Your 10th visit is on the house,'' it says.
''Bugger. Wrong card. Well, forget cards. I'll tell you who who I am face to face. I'm a member of Parliament. And here's my ID. The genuine plastic card on a chain. There's not too many of those around, sonny. I can get better grub at half the price you charge here by just flashing this at Bellamy's.
And I can use the members' dunnies in the House at any time. Night or day. Night or day
Congratulations, sir. Our prices are a bit dearer than Bellamy's, but then we are not subsidised by the taxpayer. The voters in your electorate will be pleased to know you are eating well, sir.
Voters? Who needs voters? I'm a list MP.
Oh, I should have guessed, sir, from the angle at which you are sitting.
So, let's have the champers, and no more backchat. Anyway, where did you learn to speak like something from Harrow High School?
At the polytech, sir. It's part of the paper on handling difficult customers. If the customer is made to feel inferior he may quieten down and do as he is asked. We need that training as the temptation to assault the customer can become irresistible.
Don't try that with me, cobber. No MP is gonna feel inferior to a waiter poncing around with a ring in his ear. Let's have more champagne and less posh talk.
I'm sorry, sir. You have already had far too much to drink and I'm afraid you are upsetting the other diners.
Look here, sunshine. I'll be the thudge of jat. Champagne. Now!
No, sir. And please stop shouting. The lady at table 6 is having a fit at all this noise. She was sent here by her specialist with her nerves. She had hoped to be going home tomorrow. I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave.
John Key will hear of this.
John Key?
Prime Minister. He doesn't like members being messed about. I'd be looking at the job ads if I were you, mate.
I'm not sure that Mr Key looks after the staffing at the hotel, sir. Certainly it was Monsieur Alphonse who offered me my present position and he said nothing about having to ring Wellington. And I imagine Mr Key has more than enough on his plate running the country and visiting tourist resorts overseas. The staffing of a country hotel is unlikely to concern him.
It soon will concern him, my lad. When he hears about one of his members being given the runaround in a public place. He'll have you out of here before you can say, ''and chips with that''. Rubbish, if you don't mind me saying so, sir.
I don't think the message is getting through to you, is it? You may not be a smart-aleck waiter for much longer.
Maybe, sir. But I expect to be a waiter for at least as long as you can expect to be an MP.
Don't start threatening me, sonny Jim. Would you like to step outside?
Just stay calm, sir. I'm sure your friends will see you home.
Not 'til I've dealt with you, mate.
Thud. Crash.
I'm sorry gentlemen. I'm not usually a violent man. Perhaps I should have told the member I boxed for the polytech in my student days. I'll just clear away what's on the table and you might perhaps do the same with what's under it.
Jim Sullivan is a Dunedin writer and broadcaster.
