The Green Pea Soup Story

Back in the bad old days I used to work for a real asshole. In fact most of the people I worked for at that company were assholes. Not your garden variety asshole, mind you. But the grade A, gold-plated, arrogant prick kind of asshole. The kind of people who abused power and whose friends could only be described as cronies. But I digress.

Ernie liked to abuse waitresses. He would talk down to them; send them on pointless errands; yell at them and act generally dissatisfied with their service. He would usually make such a fuss that other customers would be relieved when he finally left.

He was on a diet one time that called for 1/2 a banana with breakfast. The poor waitress brought an entire banana. He naturally complained. When she explained that they had no use for the other half of the banana and that he should just eat how much he wanted, he insisted that she take it back and bring him what he asked for. She brought back 1/2 a peeled banana on a small plate. Ernie went apeshit. WHY was the banana peeled? He sent it back again. By this time the restaurant's manager was involved; everyone around us was feeling uncomfortable and now Ernie was complaining about not getting his entire breakfast at once. He had the waitress in tears; left a meager tip and went to work with the smug, self-satisfaction of a true asshole.

Another time Ernie had all the salesmen at the branch office, I was one of them, and we went to an upscale restaurant for dinner. The kind of place that had table cloths and cloth napkins; where men were the waitresses and everyone had funny accents. Wine was ordered by the bottle and the entrees cost as much as a tank of gas. That kind of place.

We all had a few drinks at the bar to loosen up and were eventually seated. (This was the place where I first found out about Grey Goose vodka.) None of us were feeling any pain and somebody asked Ernie if he was going to behave at dinner... UH, OH! He had forgotten his place. Nobody said a word. You could hear my silk shorts rustle.

Then Ernie turned to the offending sap and said in a saccharine-sweet, menacingly soft voice, "What exactly are you referring to, Matt? Is there something you'd like to say to me?"

"Uh, no Boss! I'm good. It was the booze talking. Uh... I'm just going to shut up and go sit over here now." he mumbled, backing up and pointing to the far end of the long table where we were being seated.

So Ernie sat down to dinner already pissed off.

We all proceeded to order $30 appetizers and Ernie got the green pea soup. By the time his soup was served most of us were diving into the chilled lobster and crab or fresh mozzarella and tomato appetizers. He complained about the slow service. UH, OH! Our ears perked up but we all kept looking at our plates.

He carefully selected his soup spoon, inspected it, polished it with the cloth napkin resting in his lap, dipped the spoon in the soup and took a sip. "Waiter!" he bellowed.

The waiter was there in an instant. "Yes, sir?"

"This soup is cold. I waited for it while everyone else was eating their appetizers and now it is cold." Ernie pushed the bowl away from him. "Do something about it." He sat back, crossing his arms.

"Yes, sir. Right away. We are very, very sorry for the inconvenience." And the waiter took the soup away.

When the soup was returned, Ernie then sent the waiter for a fresh spoon. By now we were all done with our appetizers, talking among ourselves, keeping one eye on the asshole. The waiter came back with the soup spoon and Ernie took another sip while the waiter lingered. He slammed his spoon down, pushed the offending bowl of soup away, again, and said, "Its still cold!"

This went on for two more rounds. Ernie became increasingly vocal. We all cringed a little lower in our chairs; our night out being ruined. The other diners seated around us were obviously put out by his antics. The other wait-staff hovered a little closer, their body language tight.

When the soup came back for the third time it was steaming hot. The waiter silently set the bowl and plate in front of Ernie. A fresh spoon was laid beside the plate. The waiter stepped back and... well, waited. By now, Ernie is in his element. He was the total, center of attention of the entire restaurant. He picked up the soup spoon, inspected it, wiped it with his fresh napkin, dipped the spoon and took a steaming mouthful.

Suddenly you can see his jaws fly apart while keeping his lips together; his eyes shoot wide open and noise is coming from the back of his throat. He looks around quickly, grabs his napkin and spits the hot soup into it. "God Damn it!" he bellowed and gulps down some water.

I was facing the waiter and saw the satisfied smile flicker across his face. Most of the salesmen, me included, were slightly trashed and someone laughed out loud. It was like a loud noise in an avalanche zone. Suddenly we were all laughing. And the people at the other tables began applauding. And laughing.

Ernie burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth so badly that he couldn't eat dinner that night. I guess that sometimes it seems that fate (or a pissed of wait-staff) will eventually put an asshole in his place. We all had a good laugh at his expense and have The Green Pea Soup Story to tell. Most people would have been embarrassed, licked their wounds, learned a lesson and moved on. Ernie learned nothing. But we did.

The next day we received our annual reviews.