Waiting on the Last Supper

by ANDREW HICKS

I was a restaurant server for many years, and during our down times, the ultimate hypothetical question was: If you got sat with a 13-top (that’s a party of 13 in restaurantese), and it was Jesus and the disciples sitting down for the Last Supper, would you want to wait on it?

Someone would always say, “Sure, I mean, it’s Jesus, the most important religious and historical figure of all time. That’s a big deal. I might make it into the painting and everything!”

Then someone else would always say, “No way. I hate waiting on Christians. They tip like crap.” And, you know, that stereotype is pretty much true. The Bible tells believers to give 10 percent to God, so why would they give their server 20 percent? Good restaurant service is a godsend, but it’s not worth twice the dough you cough up to the Almighty.

Usually, you get an 8 percent tip with one of those Are You Going To Heaven? pamphlets on top. Which, if you get one of those, the answer is assumed to be “hell no.” Your customer analyzed your manner, your demeanor and your choice of small-talk topics and determined you were a heathen in need of redemption via mass-printed, poorly written, completely impersonal contact.

Me, I would definitely choose to wait on the Last Supper. Because I’m pretty sure from scripture that if you touch whatever part of your body ails you to any part of Jesus or his Holy Robe, you are instantly healed.

You could walk up to the table, say, “Lemme get that empty bread plate outta your way, sir,” then lean in, grab the plate, do a little pivot turn, and touch your back to Jesus’ shoulder before he’d even realize what was going on.

You’d be in the back of house, coworkers giving you crap: “I see you’re waiting on Jesus out there. What did he order for everyone, a fish sandwich with 12 extra plates?”

And you’d be like, “As a matter of fact, he did, but I don’t even care because I think he just healed my bad back, and he didn’t even know it.”

Later on, you’re dropping the check: “Does anyone care for some Cinammon Matzo Mania or Kosher Chocolate Strudel tonight? No? Okay, well then, just pay me whenever you’re ready.” Lean way over Jesus, present the check at the center of the table, and kind of mash your crotch into his back while you’re doing it. And exit to the back of house.

COWORKER: I bet he pays with a gift card and leaves you two bucks.
YOU: Yeah, well, I’ll be sure to cry about that after I go home and have sex with my wife with my penis that suddenly works again…

One Comment to “Waiting on the Last Supper”

  1. Notice in the painting, no one has a beverage. Either their server sucks, or they didn’t have drinks with their meals back then. Which would make that 13-top THAT much easier to wait on.

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