It’s Like Talking to a Cheshire Cat

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Smirk

One of my favourite beers is called Cheshire Cat, I can’t recall who the brewery is but it was a nice Amber coloured ale if memory serves me. It was the last beer I had at the airport before I went to Cuba in 2014 and as such was the penultimate English Beer I had (I took a bottle of Mild and a dimpled handle glass with me for a beach photo).

I worked with a a chef who had a very Cheshire Cat like condescending smirk which would linger long after his fat head had retreated to the kitchen. God that guy was lazy and would spend more time out the back in the yard or beer garden rather than be at his station ready. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that people did walk up to the bar and order directly… “Why didn’t you tell me there was a table in?”

“Because they ordered the moment they arrived.”

“No they didn’t, you must have sat them.”

Man he was a prick but had the favour of the landlord who was a pissed up guy who was equally incompetent and could get away with blue murder. He, or one of his kitchen team, actively decided to drive my car to a different car park because I’d left my keys hanging up… Apparently that was asking for trouble despite over my 7 and a half years working there it never had been a problem. But when I registered a complaint with management I was told “It’s just a joke, rise above it.” Retrospectively I should have registered a formula complaint with the boss’s boss… Or made a formal complaint with the police.

Still there’s one consolation, after he refused to not take out the anchovies and leave a Caeser salad undressed (as it is a Caeser Salad not a plain chicken salad) the customer in question punched the smug bastard Cheshire Cat’s grin out.


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