Servus Praedatorius
What is so damn funny about hosing down restaurants and guests?
Once it finally hit me, I couldn't stop laughing, but I still don't see why exactly... I know there couldn't be a more evil and degrading pastime -
lying in wait like some common brigand...
playing the casual, but really calculating and scheming all the while...
waiting...
and then...
WHACK!
"Got one!"
The thrill of the hunt...
It's not high-minded stuff, but it is so duplicitous and predatory, in such a benign and even sacred environment that it deserves a little respect. These guys must have ice water in their veins.
But many people strongly disagree - and justifiably so, when you consider they foot the bill for between 15 and 20 billion in "whacks" every year.
The sticky-fingered waiter, or servus praedatorius* as he (or she) is known in scientific circles, is a true enigma.
His persistent suckling is the death knell to a restaurant or bar's bottom line. Yet, no matter how much the little red-faced restaurateur stamps his feet and pulls out his few remaining hairs, the Pump Handle** remains firmly ensconced in the hearts and minds of the people - a working class vigilante of sorts, dealing out a well-deserved ass-whoopin' to the often unreasonable manager and aristocratic guest.
"Leave 'em alone! They're just kids and artist's for Christ's sake!"
"Aw, they're just young and reckless, and besides look how those jerks treat' em!"
And of course, everybody loves an outlaw. Buying rounds of drinks with the Boss Man's cash and handing out extra big tips to your busboys and coworkers doesn't exactly hurt your popularity.
"Hey, I paid my way through college with this one!" laughed the self-proclaimed Forensic Scientist, paging feverishly through the Scam Bible at our Field Ops booth in the New Orleans French Market.
At that, I knew I was face to face with a true servus praedatorius - intellectual, an eye for advancement, and a pragmatic moral outlook. Characteristics that have borne them gently from the nurturing womb of the Food and Beverage Industry through all walks of life - Wall Street, Corporate America, Medicine, Law, Politics, Education, and so on.
Does the customer get screwed? Of course. Is the restaurant or bar owner left holding the bag? Indubitably. They why all the hee haws? Good question. You tell me, if you figure it out.
Maybe we're just laughing to keep from crying.
We've been sharply criticized for taking a light-hearted, if not celebratory view of the creature, but to be honest, when I start to get that holier than thou feeling, all I have to do is think of that Forensic Scientist and consider who might be performing my next autopsy.
That's enough to make anyone abstain from moral judgment.
*Latin: [plundering slave]
**Street terminology denoting an accomplished scamster
Once it finally hit me, I couldn't stop laughing, but I still don't see why exactly... I know there couldn't be a more evil and degrading pastime -
lying in wait like some common brigand...
playing the casual, but really calculating and scheming all the while...
waiting...
and then...
WHACK!
"Got one!"
The thrill of the hunt...
It's not high-minded stuff, but it is so duplicitous and predatory, in such a benign and even sacred environment that it deserves a little respect. These guys must have ice water in their veins.
But many people strongly disagree - and justifiably so, when you consider they foot the bill for between 15 and 20 billion in "whacks" every year.
The sticky-fingered waiter, or servus praedatorius* as he (or she) is known in scientific circles, is a true enigma.
His persistent suckling is the death knell to a restaurant or bar's bottom line. Yet, no matter how much the little red-faced restaurateur stamps his feet and pulls out his few remaining hairs, the Pump Handle** remains firmly ensconced in the hearts and minds of the people - a working class vigilante of sorts, dealing out a well-deserved ass-whoopin' to the often unreasonable manager and aristocratic guest.
"Leave 'em alone! They're just kids and artist's for Christ's sake!"
"Aw, they're just young and reckless, and besides look how those jerks treat' em!"
And of course, everybody loves an outlaw. Buying rounds of drinks with the Boss Man's cash and handing out extra big tips to your busboys and coworkers doesn't exactly hurt your popularity.
"Hey, I paid my way through college with this one!" laughed the self-proclaimed Forensic Scientist, paging feverishly through the Scam Bible at our Field Ops booth in the New Orleans French Market.
At that, I knew I was face to face with a true servus praedatorius - intellectual, an eye for advancement, and a pragmatic moral outlook. Characteristics that have borne them gently from the nurturing womb of the Food and Beverage Industry through all walks of life - Wall Street, Corporate America, Medicine, Law, Politics, Education, and so on.
Does the customer get screwed? Of course. Is the restaurant or bar owner left holding the bag? Indubitably. They why all the hee haws? Good question. You tell me, if you figure it out.
Maybe we're just laughing to keep from crying.
We've been sharply criticized for taking a light-hearted, if not celebratory view of the creature, but to be honest, when I start to get that holier than thou feeling, all I have to do is think of that Forensic Scientist and consider who might be performing my next autopsy.
That's enough to make anyone abstain from moral judgment.
*Latin: [plundering slave]
**Street terminology denoting an accomplished scamster
posted by R.Chip DeGlinkta at 10:37 AM
