Tuesday, January 31, 2017, 7:30 p.m. I join a monthly meeting of young people from an association for a brief communication. we benefit from a small private room, knowing that attendance is low in this time slot, the main room is three-quarters empty. the usual game rule is that everyone takes a consumption (at least) and pay. I get a little late, just before the start of the interventions, I settle down.A (young) waitress arrives, interrupts the meeting chair to ask me with insistence what I'm taking. I ask for a few moments to think about it, his answer is clear: "I've already been done that." All right, I'm against a perrier. She brings me a red badoit, which I refuse. She tells me she meant that they didn't have a perrier on a comminatory tone. Maybe: I didn't hear it, otherwise I would have changed my choice. She's instigating, so I'm finally taking a lemonade, we have something else to do. Anyway, diabetic I avoid sweetness and alcohol, but I have nothing to wax, I have left half of it, and she throws my lemonade. I'm 56. I'm usually paying my supplies. and in particular this kind of stuff not really involving. Moreover, by regulating I didn't pay attention but she added me the syrup supplement: 30 cents of extra margin won on the gogo: the shop will go much better, probably. I was without a tie, but in a jacket, and so on, I don't think I looked like a slut. I don't know who she took me for, but I know this waitress doesn't think she's a half-kid of violet. She has to find another job very fast. Perhaps a guard-chiourm, or an instructor in any army (not ours, we are looking for good people). I kept myself well, despite a persistent desire to put her the pair of slaps she never had during her childhood. I calm down by writing this little note, which I will share of course on the networks.First ksssss-cool effect: bizarre, I forgot the tip. The result of the races: these monthly meetings will take place in another establishment among the (very) many cafes in the good city of lyon, where the staff is friendly and coming. address to escape: this kind of person is the shame and bankruptcy of the profession. I know a little, I've been a partner in a dozen restaurants for almost thirty years.