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Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of

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Two Table Tangle....

The Two Table Tangle

We won the prize for bad restaurant customers tonight. It was not intentional, honestly. It just sort of happened.

The parking lot was crowded, so Honey dropped me off at the door while he looked for a parking space. He thought I could give our name to the hostess and the wait would not be as long. Good idea, except for one thing, there was no wait. So, as soon as I arrived they sped me to a table for two.

I looked at the menu and decided what I wanted. Eventually the waitress came. She looked at the two menus. "Are you waiting for someone?" She asked. "Yes, he is parking the car." I explained. "Would you like something to drink while you wait?" So, I ordered a beverage -- still no sign of Honey. Where is he parking anyhow, on the moon?

I looked at the menu and waited some more.

Through the window and could see what appeared to be the car. He must be in the restroom, I thought. The waitress kept gazing my way. I knew she must be thinking that I was keeping a table tied up during a busy time when she could be serving people and making tips.

Finally, I got out my cell phone and sent a text. "Are you going to eat?" I was beginning to get a little irritated. "Hang on," was the reply. What I didn't realize was that I accidentally texted my daughter instead of Honey. Daughter thought I was asking about bringing a "to go" dinner home for her.

I waited and waited and grew more and more irritated. 

I would have left except I had that drink sitting there that hadn't been touched. By the time I got a check and paid it, Honey would probably be ready to eat. 

I stewed and thought murderous thoughts. Finally, I received another text, "I can't find you."

He can't find me? "I'm in the second dining room." I texted. I saw him go walking through and waved, but he didn't see me. I decided to get up from the table and chase him down. When I finally caught up with him, he was sitting at a different table and had ordered a drink. He thought I was in the restroom. 

"Are you going to move, or am I," I asked. He decided to join me at my table. 

The waitress came over, "Are you ready to order?" Yes, we certainly were. I should have left it alone, but I felt compelled to explain to the waitress and whoever was listened what happened. I could tell that she only wanted to take the order for the crazy couple at table 12 and get back to work.

The food arrived and so did a text from my daughter, telling me what she wanted to eat. In a bit the waitress came back with the check. "I want an order to go." I said. "No problem," she replied, and then left. Why did she leave without taking the order?

She is coming back, said Honey, as she sat a paper cup in front of me. I realized she must have misunderstood. "No, I wanted to add another order," I explained. “Oh, I thought you said you wanted a water to go," she said. Water? Order? I can see how that could happen. Anyhow, she took the actual order, we finished eating and she brought the food to go. I'm sure she was looking forward to being rid of us.

"Do you want a dessert, or anything?"

"No, thanks," I replied. "We've caused enough trouble for one night."

"Oh, that is okay," she lied, "a lot of people are much worse." 

As my daughter said later when I told her about it, "Boy, I'll bet they can't wait for you to come back."

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

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