"Hey can I get some sugar?"

“Christ like I haven’t heard that enough times!” she said to me.

“What’s wrong with asking for what you need? If I need some sugar I’m going to ask. I mean how else are you suppose to get something if you don’t ask for it?”

“Ya, I know. It’s just so demanding and I mean what the hell do I get out of it?” She shouted more than asked. All of this without batting an eye, and she said it all as if this was the worst moment in her life. There was no twinkle of sarcasm in her eye, as she stood there hands on hips tummy showing through the bottom of her shirt. Comfortable shoes and ankle socks at the bottom of long naked legs tapped sharply on the floor.

“What do you get out of it? How am I suppose to answer that?” I was a tad frustrated with the way this conversation was going. I had no answer for her really. “Well, what am I suppose to say to that, so now I’m a demanding ‘so and so’ aren’t I? Because I asked for some sugar before you left I’m going to get the cold shoulder and you’re going to tell all of your girlfriends about me. I can hear it now, “Oh crap here comes that weird guy that asked for sugar. Don’t talk to him just don’t do it.”

She watched me feigning her my own hand on hip swaying suductively and didn’t say anything.

I continued, “I mean it IS your job after all isn’t?”

Her look could melt the ice caps in 2 seconds flat. “MY JOB?! My job?”

‘Yes!,” I continued without letting her catch up,”Your job. It is your job to serve me. You are the waitress here aren’t you?” She stormed away and I never did get my sugar.