Okay now that I’ve finally quit Denny’s let me tell you guys about the bizarre fucking otherworld it is
The music and the room temperature are controlled by corporate. Corporate plays a lot of pop covers of Disney princess songs I’ve never heard before. I now have a dance routine to the K-Pop sounding version of Let it Go.
Our sign flickered fast and red and demonically for a week and the repairman said he couldn’t find anything wrong with it.
People did drug deals in, like, broad daylight in the middle of the parking lot multiple times a week.
It’s open 24/7. We had a backup generator none of us knew about until there was a massive storm one night and we looked out to see a tree knocked over and our lights the only thing on for miles. You could weather the apocalypse with no idea the apocalypse was even happening.
Regular customers included:
A man convinced the chemtrails are real who gave me six separate pieces of literature on the subject
A little person named Kevin who told me “sometimes I call myself a dwarf when I’m feeling whimsical”
An actual group of Neo-Nazis
An actual Earth, Wind, and Fire cover band (they played for us)
Twins who came in separately on the same day and I thought they were one woman changing outfits rapidly for the longest time
A Scottish landscaper who told us we “couldn’t prove he doesn’t know Simon Pegg”
I have more these are just off the top of my head
I can’t believe I forgot
two line cooks got into a really heated argument about whether Vin Diesel is bisexual or not
I asked an elderly man if he wanted to use the AARP discount and he said “No, I’m not a socialist”.
Having worked in food service for years, yes to all of this. This shit just happens – but I’m betting it is magnified at any place that is open 24 hours a day.
So my husband tells a story about a guy he worked with at his first job. They’d regularly go to a Thai restaurant near their office – one of those really legit places where grandma is the chef. So the guy says one day to their server, looks this girl dead in the eye, and says “You can’t make it hot enough.”
Server gives him this look like “your funeral” and takes the order to the kitchen. GRANDMA COMES OUT AND LOOKS AT THIS POOR WHITE BOY, shakes her head, and goes back in the kitchen.
When the dish comes out, it’s a solid mass of just RED. Dudes at the table are dying just sitting near it. This guy tries his damnedest, gets about five bites in, and can’t do it. Mr You-cant-make-it-hot-enough was fucking obliterated by Chef Grandma.
And to add insult to injury, they replaced the dish for him, and GRANDMA BRINGS IT OUT, gives him a look and shakes her head.
I think there’s a reasonable chance this was his receipt.
I just wanna know this place’s address because I happy-drooled at the thought of food that spicy.
Steel Phoenix Studios 