It was a cool Sunday evening around 5pm, I was wrapping up things at my cousin’s barbecue restaurant. My cousin left early without paying me, my uncle had to make a run and my aunt was with him, leaving just me to work the spot for the last hour. My uncle said, “if anyone comes in, tell them it’ll be 30 minutes for some ribs, you can handle everything else”. About 5 minutes after they left a lady comes in with her two out of control kids, and the phone rings. The kids are talking loudly, and the mom acts as if nothing is going on, the lady on the phone wants to place an order for some ribs. Since the woman in line was ready, I put the lady on the phone on hold, took their order, then picked up the line to take her order. I let her know it would be 30 minutes for the ribs and she said “well exactly how hard is it to make ribs”? I let her know I was there solo, and she let me know that wasn’t her concern, she wanted her order. 

pork spare ribs and french fries
Photo by Alberta Studios on

The lady with the wild kids wanted sandwiches and fries, I got them out of there in about 10 minutes. I fixed everything for the rude lady’s order except the ribs assuming my aunt and uncle would be back by then…they weren’t. This lady called back to let me know she was driving over, and she wanted her order ready when she got there. I simply replied OK. The restaurant was in Schaumburg, so I assumed a very affluent, past her prime, White lady with blonde hair and a nice car would be accompanying this trash attitude. So instead of blowing her off like I should have, I grabbed the two slabs she requested out of the smoker. This was my first time, so I was genuinely doing my best. I put them on the grill, slapped some sauce on, went to put the first slab in the box and hit my elbow on the edge of the grill when I turned around, dropping her first slab on the floor. I picked it up and was about to start from scratch and remembered how rude she was. I put those dirty ass ribs in the box, slapped some more sauce on and for good measure, slid that second slab across the floor too. As soon as I put her order in the warmer, a baby blue Mercedes E class pulled up and this lady was almost exactly what I expected…she was a brunette, not blonde. 

The woman walks into the restaurant, seemingly still upset about life, but when she saw me smiling, she seemed to disarm a little bit. I went through the song and dance of checking her order, showing her the ribs with the extra sauce, everything still steaming hot. She paid for everything with a $100 bill and left me the change which might have been like $42 or something. She went on about her business and I felt slightly bad until the following weekend when she called again. 

She was rude as hell this time claiming her previous order wasn’t filled correctly. I didn’t recognize the voice at first, so I said “ma’am, we’re pretty busy right now, can you please come in and we can ensure your order is correct”? She hung up on me but came into the store. She was still rude, but at least she remembered me, not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. She told me the guy that did her order Thursday messed it up and told me to ensure it’s just like the one I made for her. My aunt and uncle were there this time so I knew I couldn’t do it exactly the same, but based on her attitude, I knew what she wanted. I rang her up, hustled to the back to wash my hands and I went in the walk-in fridge to grab two cold, previously smoked slabs. I closed the door behind me, dragged those slabs across the floor really quick and brought them to my uncle to finish off on the grill and I loaded extra sauce on and showed her everything like I did before. She thanked me, and I got another big tip that I ended up having to split three ways.

In retrospect, that lady probably just had no clue how to speak to people. I don’t know what she did for a living, but I do know her manners were trash. My dealings with her, and other people like her burned one thought in my mind…” I’m not going to be an asshole when I get my money”. I can say now that I have a few dollars, I’ve made good on that so far. I tip well, though I don’t like the practice. I’m just as polite and respectful to the person mopping as I am to the person that owns the place regardless of it being a Law Firm or Wendy’s. Not that I’m trying to add stuff up for good Karma, I just don’t believe in being a dick for no reason. Also, because I don’t want people treating me a certain way (good or bad) because of their perception of my finances. 

I just moved into a new home in Texas…which I’m sure will lead to more thoughts than this post. First time doing a new build, and all of the homes in the community are nice. The moving trucks pull up, about 9 guys hop out total and I showed them all through the house. A couple of the guys looked at me like “F*** this guy” but most of the team members were cool. I showed them to the bathroom they could use if needed, the snacks and drinks on the counter, you know, good guy stuff. The moving was quick, they broke a few things but that’s to be expected. I noticed when they were wrapping up that they were short a guy, but it wasn’t a big deal. I was just happy to finally be in my place.

Once everyone was out of the house and it was time to chill, I did a walk through. This is when I realized why a guy was possibly missing. One of these clowns took a massive shit in my daughter’s toilet and clogged it up. The guy must’ve had a full-on Mexican buffet before coming to work. Now, I’m generally a really peaceful guy and I don’t resort to violence immediately, but my first reaction was “aww hell nah, where’s my gun at” because where others may have seen partially digested beans and corn sprayed all over the toilet, I saw disrespect floating around. I don’t think I’d be alone in wanting to harm this man, but I could be wrong. Luckily, I was able to put it in perspective and I thought about what his impression of me might be to feel this shit was ok.

Notice the wisdom

Although no one in my house was rude to him or anyone else for that matter, he may have looked at us like some rich assholes that deserve some disrespect. He may have been planning to blow up a toilet regardless of the home or homeowners. Maybe causing havoc like this is just his thing…who knows. What I do know is, I will likely never see him again to return the favor in any way, and I’m coming to terms with that. Maybe the lady that was rude to me really didn’t deserve that second swipe of ribs across the floor and this is my own Karma paying a visit. There’s no telling, life is funny like that. All I know is, bathroom doors are coming off the hinges next time I move…as G Dubya wisely stated “fool me once, shame on, shame on you…you fool me, you can’t get fooled again”. Classic! 


  1. Too Funny! And yes, I do believe in Karma! But this many years later is just wow! Congratulations on your new home!

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