I was feeling grouchy that evening, but as I had arranged a dinner date with a fine woman, I met her outside of a upscale restaurant.
When we entered the restaurant, the host asked, “Good evening, sir. A table for how many?”
I looked at my dinner date, looked down at my shoes, and then looked back at the host and said, “I don’t know. I can’t count this high either.”
We were seated at a table and feeling festive for my date’s sake, I yelled out, “Waiter! A bottle of Dom Perignon champagne!”
“Very good, sir,” the waiter replied. “What year?”
“This year,” I said somewhat irritated. “Now!”
The service took a while, so when a waiter passed by, I said to him, "Excuse me, are you our waiter?
"Yes, Sir, I am."
"Funny," I replied. "You don't look a day older."
When after a period of time we had still not seen our waiter with our dinner, I said to my date, "Do you know why they are called waiters? It is because they make you wait and wait."
But when the meal finally came, it was good, and I dug in and cleaned my plate.
When we had finished eating, the waiter handed me the check and walked away.
I took a couple of bucks out of my wallet and tossed them on the table.
"You’re supposed to leave 15 per cent,” my date whispered to me.
“I’m sorry, but I was really hunger, so I eat it all!”
Then I looked at the check and handed it to my date.
“This bill is outrageous,” I told her. “I wouldn’t pay this if I were you…”
Note: The above photo is of Groucho Marx from A Night at the Opera.
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