Often times when we're out eating, either myself or Fred spots a SNO. The other looks to confirm and then we both listen on in shock and amazement.
What is a SNO? It's a Sunday Night Out-er. It's the people that only go out to eat one time a week and they pick a place that they can barely afford, order only from the sandwich menu, drink only water, share their meals with their kids and nit pick the server TO DEATH over anything and everything in an attempt to shave some more dollars off their bill.
As a former server, I just hate 'em.
After all that running around and likely getting a manger involved, they leave you with two things: 1.) A disgusting table with ketchup smeared, fries ground into the floor, pop spilled, errant straws, 483 used napkins and 2.) A tip for $1.50 if they thought you were "good."
SNO's rank right up there with the Medwick-named OFM. The Obnoxious Fat Moron. These are the folks that hog up the aisle in Wal-Mart deciding between the 27 varieties of toothpaste and their kids are running around and jumping in the cart like a bunch of un-trained monkeys. I just want some toothpaste. Colgate, plain. But you have parked your cart of banshees in the middle of the aisle. And when I said 'excuse me' you ignored me. Screw it, I just won't brush anymore.
My heart goes out to every employee of an establishment when you see them coming in their white stretch pants, or acid-washed shorts with a fanny pack and at least 5 kids that you know the next hour of your life is definitely NOT WORTH the $2.15 you're getting paid. I repeatedly cringed last week when we watched our beloved Lazlo's family (read: staff) had to deal with some directly behind us.
So you can imagine my response when Fred said "New house means less eating out. Or, we keep eating out but have to be SNO's."
Uh-uh Fred. I'd rather starve.
But hey, we haven't moved yet - so Lazlo's tonight?