When I was working at Prints Plus, I made two close friends. (One who I do not speak to anymore, and who I will get to at a later date.) Jamie and Stephanie. Stephanie is my friend to this day, she is the most patient, colorful soul I have encountered. We have next to NOTHING in common, but always get along wonderfully. I really adore her.

I do not remember if both of them were with me when this happened, or if it was just one… but we went to Denny’s after work often. (For those of you who do not have a Denny’s in your area, it’s a 24 hour restaurant with mediocre food.) We would often times get out of work really late and spend hours in Denny’s talking, laughing, eating, drinking coffee, etc… one night we noticed they had a new waitress. We said hello to the other staff and sat down. She came over and got our drinks.

I looked over the menu and decided on an omelet. So I ordered an omelet. She asks me

“How do you want your eggs?”

Perplexed, since ‘omelet’ is a way to prepare eggs. Now for those of you who do not know what an omelet is, you don’t deserve to have it explained to you. But, because I am nice, it’s a way you cook eggs. You take two to four eggs, and beat them with milk, put them in a pan, when semi firm, put cheese or other desireables on this pancacke like egg. Fold 1/3 over the main body of the omelete. Fold other 1/3 over the body of the omelete. Flip. Cook. Serve.

ANYWAY omelets are very common, if you haven’t seen one until now, you need to get out more, seriously. So I sat there stunned, looking at the picture, I pointed, politely trying to explain.

“No, I want an omelet, this is an omelet right?”

She nodded, looked at the picture and looked back at me.

“Alright, but how do you want your eggs in your omelet?”

I was stunned, I started to stammer, and the only thing I could come up with was a feeble…

“Um… omeleted?”

She looked at me like I was a freak, then got severely annoyed. Throwing her hands to her hips in dramatic fashion.

“Look… I don’t think the cook can “omeleted” your eggs but I can ask. I don’t think there is such a thing as an omelet. SO…. if he can’t I need to know how else you would want your eggs…”

I stared at her, and at the menu, Stephanie and Jamie were trying not to laugh. I cleared my throat and shrugged honestly.

“I guess…. um scrambled would be the closest to an omelet…?”

It was posed more of a question than a statement. She seemed flustered. She turned to Jamie who wanted something with eggs in it as well. She asked Jamie how she wanted her eggs. Jamie replied.

“Over easy, but please put them on a separate plate. I don’t want the yolks getting on the rest of the meal.”

The waitress seemed to be hastily writing this down… then took the last order, then took our menus. She then vanished from sight for about half an hour. We sat and sat, talked, I actually got up and got more coffee from the back because she was not waiting on us. Finally she came back and handed us our bill. We looked at it and smiled, and asked where our food was. She had forgotten to bring it out. She explained it was her first day, and she had just taken her lunch. We nodded, having now spent 45 minutes in Denny’s, with just refills of coffee. She returned with the wrong order. We explained it wasn’t what we ordered, and she got flustered and retook our order. I want to say we were very patient with her. She asked again how I wanted my omelet prepared, I told her scrambled to save more confusion. She went back and put our order in a third time.

We finally got our food, Jamie’s eggs were scrambled, mine were over easy, and Stephanie had the wrong order again. Jamie and I traded eggs, Steph just dealt with her order, ravenous at this point. The waitress came back and noticed we had switched eggs while she refilled us.

“Don’t you like your over easy omelet?”

I looked at her, clearing my throat.

“Actually, I ordered an omelet, … which somehow no one can prepare… so I got scrambled eggs… that somehow Jamie got, so we switched.”

I giggled, we laughed. It was a funny situation. Confused she nodded looking to Stephanie.

“And how is the food for you?”

Stephanie smiled and said.

“Well again this isn’t what I ordered, but it’s good.”

The waitress at that point put down the coffee mug on our table and said to us.

“There is just no pleasing you!”

And stormed away. The manager came out then and looked at us, we were regular customers after all. She asked what that was all about….we explained everything. The manager could not believe what happened, and said offhanded.

“Well you don’t have to worry about it, she just quit.”

So somewhere in the world, there is a waitress drop out, who thinks my friends and I tried to make her life hell, oh and that there is no such thing as an omelet.