Barbara,
This is the manager, Justin from last night. I’m writing in regards to your snapper which you ordered and never received.
I want to tell you about my middle school principal. I can’t
remember his name. A towering man who would speak only in song as he chastised
us and handed out detention slips. As he walked the hallways, we would hear him
before we saw him- because he had this incredibly rhythmic snap. It popped like
the crack of a gunshot. “Ticky tacky mr. Justin with no belt looks slacky. One hour
of detention.” He was so weird.
We’ll get to your fish in a second.
It was common knowledge that this man had spent time in Vietnam during the war. He was a stern guy, and kind of weird. What do you think he saw out there in the shit, Barbara? I think he saw terrible things. I could read it on his face, even though I could barely understand as a 12-year-old.
Trauma leaves marks on us Barbara, the way water carves canyons into mountains. And here was a man, molded into the strangest geological formation, just still doing his thing. I think the snap was where his power came from. He probably watched the light leave a man’s eyes and held him so that he didn’t have to die alone. Decades later he would give me a full day of detention for sticking carrots up my nose.
I think subconsciously I internalized that magnificent snap he had, as a way of focusing my scattered attention, of collecting my thoughts. I know it seems like a tangent but my mind went to him when your email found me, drunk on raspberry brandy on my patio, doing knife tricks. This will be important later I promise.
I am so sorry we forgot your snapper. Please don’t be upset with your server, he’s a good guy, an honest guy. It was a whole chain of command that broke down. It’s not just us, but the simulation that wronged you, it is definitely crashing. The vast algorithm that is our deterministic destiny fucked you, and honestly, I’m just as pissed as you are.
Im sorry about the snapper but Barbara, I gotta tell you- that snapper is gone forever. You’re never going to see it again and there is nothing you can do about it in this life or the next. I’ve seen your other timelines and in every single one, there is nothing we could have done to get you the snapper. It is your destiny to be denied this snapper.
Do you think it was because of negligence or lack of concern? Barb, holy shit. If I thought it would work, I would use shaped explosive charges to crack open tungsten bank vaults. I would assemble a sniper rifle on a Belarusian rooftop in the dead of night. I would enter The Gateway and steal that snapper from a happier timeline and poison the fabric of reality on my way out the cosmic door, just to make your dining experience special.
But all my tricks and all my navy SEAL gear are not enough to make it happen after the fact. For that I am truly sorry.
Please give us a chance to make it up to you. Please come into my apartment and sit in my empty bathtub. I will light every candle I own (approximately 80), pour you a glass of expensive scotch into a hand-cut crystal tumbler, and we will get to the bottom of this snapper thing.
Allow me to sit at a tasteful distance on the floor my bathroom as I make my case: I don’t think you needed that snapper in the first place. That snapper was holding you back, it was a weight on your shoulders and now that it’s gone for good you are finally free. You’re glowing.
And don’t think I didn’t notice the bravery it took to speak up. Many people in this world are filled with fear, Barbara- not you. From the bottom of our hearts, we appreciate the critical feedback. We want to know if we screw something up, and people don’t always feel comfortable saying something. We are emotionally invested in being huge badasses on the floor of this restaurant, and every mistake drives us mad, like a splinter in our brains. It’s not a healthy worldview, but this is just the way we are. We keep the knives sharp in case we need to reclaim our lost honor by disemboweling ourselves. The service industry is not for the faint of heart.
Sometimes I feel like that middle school principal. I’ve seen horrors too Barb. I’m grateful to be out of the jungle, but jesus is it weird to be in charge of anything. We hang onto this idea that we move forward in life when we’re ready. Like we’ve trained for something and some unseen arbiter is like, ok you’re ready to manage the comings and goings of other people. It just sounds like bullshit, you know?
I became a manager at the age of 22 after the GM was arrested. I was not then, nor am I now ready for the responsibilities placed upon me, your snapper being one of a myriad of challenges I don’t fully know how to handle. But at some point, we have to realize that the people that wait until they’re ready are never going to get to play the game.
I’ll do anything to buy the wine I want to sell Barbara. Letting you sit in my tub and drink my scotch is a small price to pay for autonomy. I’ll do so much more. Way more than makes sense, way more than is healthy. But I know why I do it, this is where my self-worth comes from. These days though if feels like a compulsion or a tic, I don’t know. I’m pretty concerned that if I don’t receive cool wine on a regular basis, I will fucking die. Handling customer service issues with empathy like this, it's just a pathway to my next fix.
That wasn’t meant to be a guilt trip - please help yourself to as much Springbank 21 as you like.
I don’t have a snapper for you but I have something more useful- I’m gonna teach you how to snap like that man.
First things first, this snap is not meant to be directed towards someone. It is my duty to inform you that snapping AT someone in a service situation is extremely rude. If you snap at the wrong person, you will put yourself in great danger. They will never find your body.
Best case scenario, you’re gonna want to pour a tiny bit of liquid on your hand to make sure the sound really travels- the scotch will work just fine. Raise your hand as high as you can get it, stand on a chair if one is available, like you’re looking for a cell signal.
This next part is the most important part Barbara: visualize the thing that is driving you insane. This is to be used for existential complaints, for things that regular channels cannot solve.
Then finally, press your thumb and middle finger together until your middle finger slips and collides with your palm hard enough to split atoms. You can do it once, you can do it a few times if you like.
This is our prayer, Barbara. It’s never answered, but if you’re doing it right, you’ll grow accustomed to the screeching madness of reality and you won’t have a psychotic break when something goes wrong. Something is always going wrong, hourly. That’s just the job. I don’t mean it in a mean way, but your snapper wasn’t special in terms of dragons I tried to slay that evening.
What is special is that you wanted to be heard about what
went awry and well, hopefully it’s obvious we’re hearing you. We can hear everything
from miles away.
To tell you the truth Barbara, I empathize with your pain in this whole snapper mess. I’m looking for a snapper too- a snapper I was supposed to get but didn’t. If you’re snapping for that snapper later, will you do it for me as well? I could go for a snapper, but honestly any fish, cooked respectfully would do nicely.
I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today Barbara. I’ll need you to finish the rest of your Scotch and get out of my bathtub. I have to get back to my knife tricks.
