Upon our arrival at work, the front of house staff were
handed small, silenced pistols and told that, going forward, we would be
expected to, on occasion, execute our customers gangland style.
It was hoped that this would provide a simple, elegant
solution to the guests who got too drunk, spoke too loudly, and generally
disrupted their neighbors enjoyment of their meals. According to our new
policy: At the request of a customer, we would drag the offending patron out
into the parking lot, put a bullet in them, and toss their body into a
specially marked biohazard dumpster located to the side of the building for
later disposal before cleaning up any blood that might have spattered on us,
hygene is important in food service, and returning to our duties, allowing other
customers to enjoy their dinner in well deserved peace.
The restaurant’s lawyers, we were assured, had already
worked out the various thorny legal details. There would be no consequences to
us personally for the people we were asked to kill.
Nor should there be. It’s just a job after all, and minimum
wage plus tips isn’t worth going to court over.
It seemed, we reflected, the sort of scheme that might
actually work. After all, it’s only a few rowdy patrons who ruin the evening
for everyone else. Nonetheless, we were naturally profoundly uncomfortable at
the prospect.
Not uncomfortable that we’d be expected to commit murder,
mind you, it’s the dream of every waiter to be allowed to kill the occasional
guest. Rather, uncomfortable at how the decision as to who needed to die would
be made.
We’re fine with killing customers.
We just don’t want YOU to choose who lives or dies…
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