Meeting Gluttony

I’ve never met a glutton before.

I’ve met people that complain a lot and I’ve met people who eat a lot and I’ve met people who drink way more than they should, but I’ve never met anyone who can’t get enough of anything.

We went out to dinner last night with a bunch of people; among them was a larger couple that we’ve never met. The Wife and I sat on one end so that we could put Lemon at the end of the table and the Glutton sat at the other end.  It was one of those restaurants that has chips and popcorn and stuff on the table as you’re sitting down. Before the waiter could ask for our drinks, the Glutton had devoured her basket of chips and was working on another.  I thought maybe she hadn’t eaten lunch.

When we ordered our drinks, the woman said, “Do we get refills?”, which I didn’t think much of.  It’s more of an economic question than a culinary one.  To me, she could have said, “Since I’m paying three dollars for soft drinks that are essentially free, am I able to fill this glass up as much as I want?”  I did think it was a little odd that she would say that as she ordered one, though.

As the Glutton finished the second basket of free food, the drinks came.  Normally, at this time, the waiter asks if everyone needs another minute to peruse the menu or if everyone has decided; normally, with a party this size, the answer is “We need another minute.”  The first person to speak up was the Glutton.  She said that she thought everyone was ready.  I knew The Wife wasn’t, and being rude as I am, I said, “No.  I think a lot of us are still looking.”  The Glutton became angry, as if I had taken the food from her already.  She threw what is starting to appear to me as the middle-aged version of a hissy-fit (I’m noticing it more and more as I age) and ordered appetizers.  The rest of us ordered food a few minutes later.

After her appetizers were gone – no one else ordered any – she said, “Who’s ready for dinner!”  Just like that.  Without a question mark.  It was a statement.

My response was, because another basket of chips was on the other side of the table near me and I had eaten my fill, was “Meh.  I can wait.  Those chips filled me up pretty good.”   A few people nodded in agreement.  Her hissy-fit came back as she ordered a second refill.

Around the time we got our food was when I started to figure out that she was the Glutton.  It wasn’t the fact that she was large enough to come in on an Amigo, it wasn’t the fact that she cackled like a cartoon witch, or the fact that she actually had to sit down to rest on our way to the table.  It wasn’t even that she ate all of the free food, all of the appetizers, all or her food, the rest of her husband’s food, and desert while consuming a total of (I counted) six soft drinks.  The thing, I think, that classified her as the Glutton was her total lack of self-awareness.

She had no problem asking for refills before the first drink was gone.  She had no problem consuming all of the free food while complaining she was hungry.  She had no problem speaking for everyone.  She had no problem cackling maniacally at her own jokes.  She had no problem telling everyone how tired it makes her walking from the entrance of a restaurant to the table where she’s going to eat and she had no problem resting while doing so.  She had no problem telling us that her feet were sore and she had no problem asking her husband to take her shoes off for her because she “Just can’t reach ‘em anymore.”

And that’s what I think classfies someone as a glutton.  Not that you’re fat (because lots of people are fat), not that you’re lazy (because lots of people are lazy), not that you complain all the time (because lots of people bitch), and not that you can’t get enough to eat (because lots of people are hungry).  You’re a glutton if you’re a hyperbolic example of these traits and aren’t aware enough to control it.

Seriously, I’m embarrassed if I sneeze weird; when The Wife was in the bathroom this woman cackled, “If she doesn’t back here soon, she’s gonna lose that ice cream.”

And I believed her.

I felt nothing but remorse for her.

And I felt nothing but absolute respect for her husband.

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6 Responses

  1. Why was she taking her shoes off in a restaurant?

    Also, although we have no idea who this woman is, wouldn’t it be abundantly clear to people who know you and read this blog who this woman is? Just seems a little insulting is all.

    [A1: I already told you, she didn’t take her shoes off. Her husband did.

    A2: No one that knows me reads this blog.]

    Thin people fucking hate fat people. That’s a statement tangential to your post, but it’s remarkably true. When fat people aren’t around, thin people talk about fat people the way that secretly racist whites talk about black people. I don’t have the time or inclination to explore that theme at the moment, but let’s all deal with it. Fat people: the world hates you.

  2. The reason she took her shoes off at the restaurant is because she’s a glutton. She had absolutely no shame about anything.

    I was afraid that someone might see this post, but I asked The Wife the next day about it and she said something like, “They’re MY friends. They don’t give a shit about your comic book.”

    This reminds me of a little rant I have: We can only hate white people, guys, christians, and fatties. Everything else is off limits.

    Looks like I got another post to write.

  3. Well, I don’t think fat people belong in that category. It is not socially acceptable to openly hate fat people. It is only okay to insult fat people if either 1) you’re in the presence of only thin people, or 2) you are fat.

    • You’re right. Fat people don’t belong in that category, but not because it’s untrue.
      I wrote a post about it, it’ll be out next week.

  4. […] Pages Weezer's HurleyMeeting GluttonyDownloadsGarage SaleeBook […]

  5. […] every hour I’m there.  I’m able to see shows, eat at buffets, and drink free drinks ‘til the Glutton says, “You’ve had quite […]

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