“Okay, you said so. A Bruschetta, Ribollita, Lasagne and Osso buco alla Milanese. Oh! Also Tiramisu for dessert.” I said that almost everything was on the menu and I was just laughed at by the i***t who stared at me. The waiter was even surprised because he couldn’t believe the amount I ordered. Is it my fault I ate too much? Huh?
My older waiter left without even asking about it with me. I looked at him curiously.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked him a confused question.
“He already knows what I want,” it replied. I frowned at what it said.
“How’s that? Did you use your waiter’s telepathy?” I laughed jokingly at him. It just smiled at me.
“I own this place,” I literally gasped at its response. Seriously? To him is it? That’s why it’s so pretentious and so popular with costumers. Ap
