Waitress: Hi, sweetie, how are you?! Can I get you some more coffee, sweetie? Sweetie, you look like you’ve had a rough night, can I get you something else?
Queer looking up at waitress for a silent minute: Darling, I really hope this is your first day, ’cause clearly you are not skilled in the art of serving New Yorkers. I don’t know how they do things down South, but here in the city you ask us what we want, you bring it to us, and you walk away. You don’t make small talk, you don’t ask what’s wrong, and you sure as fuck don’t call us ‘Sweetie.’ Get it?
Waitress: Well, screw you! I don’t need to sit here and listen to some bratty–
Queer, clapping: –Yes! Just like that! Except next time, instead of ‘Screw you,’ I’d say ‘Fuck you.’ Much more effective. Now, may I please have a cup of coffee? Thanks, Georgia.