I work in a field that requires a lot of client interaction. Brown nosing, glad-handing, pretending to laugh at their terrible jokes. That kind of thing. And it's terrible. On top of that, our company's biggest client is a real ball buster. But a powerful one. I heard that instead of bottled water, that he keeps bottles of spinal fluid from children in 3rd world countries in his fridge. Yeah, that bad.
So last week, when he was in town, I decided to try and impress him by taking him somewhere local. A ""slice"" of Milwaukee pie if you will (puns, gotta love em'). Anyway, this ""good"" idea of mine is where the positives end.
We walk in, and I'll be damned if we didn't walk into an Italian version of Chi-Chi's from 1996. Talk about dated. I assured my client that this was just part of the, ""charm"" while I was secretly soiling myself.
On to dinner. My client, looking with increasing disgust, orders a small pizza and I order the lasagna from our waitress, who, looked like she has at least two different baby daddies. But I digress.
Our food arrives a scant 55 minutes later and at this point, my client looks like he's about to order everyone in the place killed. We start eating and I could tell his pizza was awful. He looked at me like someone just falcon punched him in the gut, stopped eating and complained about how hard the crust was.
He wasn't kidding. Their pizza could easily be used for a frisbee if it weren't for the possibility you could DECAPITATE someone with it.
Long story short, we leave and my client was so appalled with Mama Mia's and my judgement that I took him there that I no longer have a job.
I've had to turn to living out of my 1999 Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX (turbo!) and have started a nasty little coke habit and am hungrier than a Somalian at Golden Corral. I suppose I could eat the food Mama Mia's throws away, but really, eating garbage would be less disgusting.
So yeah, thanks Mama Mia's.
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