Dear Jack Black,
I was always a huge fan. I mean Tenacious D? Helloooo! Hilarious. “f**k
me gently” might be the best line ever written.
So when I heard you were going to be performing for charity where I
was waiting tables, I was stoked!
When you came in, you were quickly escorted to the VIP area. You were with 2 ladies, perhaps your mom and an aunt? I couldn’t tell.
“Hello!” I said in a casual but friendly manner. We had tons of celebs come in and out of the club, so I was used to seeing stars and generally didn’t give an F. But like I said, Tenacious D = huge fan.
You looked up from your menu as though you could not comprehend what I was doing there. The look on your face was either one of irritation or potentially disgust. I couldn’t quite tell.
I was taken aback. My outfit was cute, and I definitely showered.
“I’ll have an insert-whatever-drink, and they can order whatever they
want,” you said sullenly, gesturing to the ladies with you.
Wowza. Someone had a bug crawl up their ass. Our club had seen the
likes of Paul McCartney, and he was a gem, not to mention THE BEST
SONGWRITER OF ALL TIME. So I wasn’t sure what your problem was.
Still, I continued to be friendly. And because you went on stage quickly,
I had little interaction with you. Just your guests.
Since there was no bill, I let you know after the show that you were all set, the show was great, and it was a pleasure waiting on you. You mumbled thanks.
I returned to your table immediately after you left, only to find NO TIP.
None, nada, zilch. It was then I realized you were an asshole. Having
a bad day is one thing; stiffing your waitress is another.
No Longer a Fan