You sat in my section for lunch. You ordered water without ice, then tepid, then slightly warmer. You asked about every item on the menu, as if you'd never seen a menu before, then took five minutes to order, altering your dish as much as possible. At the last minute, you changed your mind, ordered something else, and altered that as much as possible, too. Meanwhile, the rest of my tables are wondering where there server went. After satisfying your every need, I found that you kindly left me no tip. Nada. Nothing. You must be used to being waited on, because you clearly have no perspective, and no compassion. Laying in bed that night, I fantasized about the many ways in which I would kill you, including flat out strangling you to death. Needless to say, I slept well.