In the ’70’s three of us used to go into the local Hofbrau after a night on the town. We would always order roast beef on french, and you could have the bread dipped, so we would always order it this way:
“Roast Beef on French, Dip”.
Our server would smile and prepare our order, then think about it, then glare at us with dawning recognition, watching us to see if he was being insulted. We would always keep a straight face until we paid for our orders and a pitcher of beer. Then we would laugh uproariously at our table at our great humor.
Nowadays we know it is unthinkably rude to gratuitously insult your server by calling him a “dip”. But there’s no law that says he can’t gratuitously insult himself.
For lunch today I ordered an egg salad sandwich at our local deli.
When it was my turn to order, I said, “Egg salad sandwich on sliced sourdough with leaf lettuce and mayo.”
He grabbed a couple of slices of bread, spread mayo on them, and asked, “would you like everything with that?”
“No thanks”, I said, “just mayo and leaf lettuce, thanks.”
He spread egg salad mix generously on both slices. While he was breaking up the leaf lettuce, he stopped, frowning. “Mustard?” he asked.
“No thanks”, I said expansively, “I’m sticking with just mayo and leaf lettuce today, thanks.” He positioned the lettuce on the egg salad mix and then stopped again, puzzled. “Would you like tomatoes on that?”
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