The RedHots are on fire today!
Jess Witkins and I are revealing our own sassy stories and sharing those from a few of our friends!
I’ll start with my own:
Many years ago, when I was married to an Executive chef/restaurant owner, I sometimes helped hostess in his upscale Italian restaurant. The customers were mainly professionals, like doctors, stockbrokers, business owners, with a few local dignitaries thrown in.
One evening, the restaurant was bustling and patrons were waiting 10-20 minutes for a table, even with a reservation. Keep in mind, these patrons were not used to waiting for anything. They had the power of prestige and wealth and were customarily given preferential treatment.
At the hostess station I faced a line of 6 parties waiting. The first in line happened to be two doctors and their wives who were weekly customers. I knew where they preferred to sit. However, their regular table was occupied. This is how things unfolded:
Me: Good Evening, Dr. Smith. Hello, Dr. Jones, Ladies. I’m afraid your regular table will be occupied for another twenty minutes or so. However, I can offer you our private dining room in about ten minutes. Would that suffice?
Doctor Smith: But we made a reservation. We’re here on time and we want to sit down right now.
His wife’s face turned a lovely shade of scarlet to match her sweater. Dr. Jones chimed in with his volume raised.
Dr. Jones: Where’s your husband? He’ll seat us immediately. We shouldn’t have to wait! We’re here every week. We’re your best customers! Go get him now!
Me: (with a smile) Drs., My husband has a full house tonight and is preparing the dishes himself. I’m afraid he’s unable to come out at the moment. I’m certain you’ll enjoy the private room as soon as it’s ready and I’ll ask my husband to stop by and visit as soon as possible.
The wives tried to shush their rude, arrogant husbands to no avail. The Drs. continued their rant and the volume increased with every word.
Me: Dr. Smith, Dr. Jones, when I visit your offices, it’s typical that I, as your patient, wait half an hour or more to be seen. And I’m one your BEST patients! Would I be seen any more quickly if I put up a fuss? Oh look, here’s your server now. The private room is ready.
The wives whispered apologies to me as they passed. I suppressed the urge to do a victory dance but I was dancing inside!
I polled a few friends for their sassy stories and one-liners.
Please welcome Barbara McDowell:
On my first day gig as a marketing assistant, I stayed an hour later than usual finishing up a Power Point design for an executive VP. I was a young go-getter who had no problem staying later. Others, presumably with traditional families, had bailed on time.
The VP started asking me probing, personal questions…maybe to see if pulling me to stay could be a steady option, who knows. I had the sense it was a test and that I had to make a stand for myself proving my time was as relevant as someone with a spouse or kids. Our conversation went a bit like this:
Him: “So, Babs (a nickname I hated), you got anyone waiting at home for you?”
Me: “Yep, two white cats.”
Him: “So, no family counting on you making it home on time?”
Me: “Well, the cats will get aggressive in a bit. And i suppose my mother might come looking for me, at some point, if I’m a no show.”
Him: “You married?”
Me: “Can’t say that I am.”
Him: “You have any kids?”
Me: “Didn’t I just say I wasn’t married?”
Considering the touch of snark that coated my voice, he decided to leave it alone.
And now, my good friend, Helen Atkinson:
When I was 19, I worked as a typist in a Word Process Unit (remember those?). A sleazy guy would come in every day to submit his typing and, before he left, he would stand behind me and massage my shoulders and neck. He, obviously, didn’t respect the fact that I was married (not that that really matters, but I had a ring on, so even if you’re a total jerk you’d respect the ring).
Me: Please don’t do that. I really don’t like to be touched.
Him: Ohhhhhh sorrrrrry!
Apparently, he was offended.
The next day and many days after that:
Me: Please don’t touch me. (I was too timid back then to say something more firm.)
Him: Well, you look tense, so I’m giving you a back rub.
Finally, I’d had enough. I wheeled around in my chair, stood up face to face with him and said:
“I’ve told you several times to stop touching me, and you apparently are not respecting my wishes. You touch me one more time and I’ll shove your hands in a place the sun don’t shine. Do you understand?”
He backed off speechless and walked away. Fortunately for him, he never bothered me again.
A friend we love and admire, Piper Bayard:
Piper’s sassy response to an old flame upon parting:
“Love is what you do, and what you did was all my friends.”
And finally, another witty friend, Jenny Hansen:
Jenny shares a phone conversation between herself and her Mom:
Jenny: *sees Mom on Caller ID and smiles* Mamacita!
Mom: How’s my Niffie Poo?
Jenny: Doing good. Driving to work.
Mom: Who are you teaching today? Will there be any I-D-10-T perpetrators?
(She freaking loved all the geek-speak for calling the end users morons.)
Jenny: Today it’s salespeople, which means I’ll be repeating myself a lot. Tons of A.D.D. in this group. How are they treating you at Barnes? (Hospital in St. Louis where she was a patient way too often in her final years. She died at age 65.)
Mom: I had to have a donkey barbecue with the nurse’s aide again.
Jenny: The same one as the last time? Commode Guy?
Mom: The same one.
(Note: We called him Commode Guy because he kept leaving the room without shutting the top of the commode next to her bed, which enraged her.)
Jenny: Oh Lord…what happened?
Mom: He left the lid up again! I had to talk the attending physician and the lung specialist with the lid up. It’s hard to look like a professional when your commode’s wide open.
Jenny: I can only imagine. I’m sorry, Mom. So what’d YOU do? (Because I knew she’d done something.)
Mom: As soon as they left, I rang the call button and asked for the aide. When he came in, I made him close the damn lid! Then I said, “Sir, there’s a word in the dictionary between diarrhea and dipshit. Do you know what it is?” And he said, “No ma’am.” So I said, “It’s DIGNITY and I’d like to keep what little I have left. Do NOT leave the lid up on my commode when you leave the room. Please.”
Please share your own sassy stories in the comments or on your own blog with a link back here.
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