Is this really my life?

I'm going to take a break from the "Homecoming to McRugby" series to recant some hilarious tales of harassment I've endured since returning back from my visit.

Back “home” from visiting my loves, it’s back to the creepy old men who haunt my daily life. Yesterday at work, a married couple and their sketchy brother/in-law came in. He was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and had greasy slicked back hair. When I greeted the table and asked if I could get anyone anything, he replied, “How about a date?” I shuddered and moved on from the table. At the end of the meal, the woman told me I was terrific and “a keeper” to which creepy guy added, “Yeah… can I keep you?”

Also, three scumbag guys thought they were hilarious by making innuendos about to-go boxes and my vagina. Ha. Ha. You said "box," aren't you a wit? Asking howbig my box is and whether or not they could fit all oftheir food in my box. Man, those guys should becomedians. Or have their asses kicked.Then today, an old man came in to dine alone. And for some reason, men like to mistake waitresses doing their job as some sort of personal interest in them.They actually pay us to be polite and pretend that we give a shit about how happy and comfortable you are. This old man during the meal asked me things such as,“Do you live on your own?” and “What time do you get off today?” As I leaned over the table to refill his coffee, he leered and said, “I bet I’m not the first one to tell you that you have beautiful eyes.”

The best, or should I say WORST part? Neither of these horribly men left me a decent tip. I had to suck it up and endure their creepy and inappropriate sexual harassment and didn’t even make enough to buy a latte from Starbucks. It’s disgusting what I have to endure on a daily basis, and I find myself hating my life more and more each day.

Also to file in the Creepy Man database, is this incident from two days ago: As I was gathering my apron and purse and juggling my keys and cup of water, getting out of my car after an abysmal shift, an old man was slowly shuffling up the sidewalk. He stopped in front of my carport and turned to stare at me. Internally I said, "Oh fucking Christ, what does this goddamn old man want?" This is the weirdness that went down, verbatim:

After a moment of staring at one another, I finally speak.
Carrie: Um. Hi.
Creepy Old Coot: *Uncomfortably long pause* ...Can I talk to you?
C: No. I'm, uh, on my way out.
COC: I live around the corner.
C: Oh.
COC: We have drugs in the neighborhood.
C: Oh.
COC: Don't keep anything illegal in your car. I have undercover cops coming here to look around.
C: Oh.

With that I turned and hurried into my apartment and locked the door behind me. Fucking creepy old man. Was he insinuating I was a druggie? Well, let me insinuate that you are a creepy ass hobbly pedophile who needs to stay the fuck away from me, lest I break your frail oldass kneecaps. Assbag. I've never seen this old man before, and he uses our first interaction toe ssentially accuse me of being a druggie? Fuck you, old man. Talk to me again and I'll call the cops on you for harassment.