Raiders of a Lost Art

This won't take long.

It's just to reassure you that if I happen to be passing your table, notice your glass is empty, and then offer to refill it for you, there's absolutely nothing in it for me beyond satisfying myself you have everything you need. Right? Nothing. That knowing, sceptical, often disapproving look you give me that says, "yeah, yeah I've heard this song and dance before; I let you bring me something and you charge me service", need not apply. I know where it's coming from; as discussed not two posts hence there are some utter cowboys out there, and having been "served" by so many before you're understandably guarded about playing into my hands and, moreover, what it might cost you. But don't affront me just because I wear an apron too. (I don't anymore, actually, but you know what I mean.)

I get paid to do a job. When you're in my care and so long as I'm at liberty to, any reasonable opportunity I have to make your experience more comfortable or hospitable, I'm going to take it. There is no premium, no catch. Unless you determine otherwise it, like all the sagely observed shit here, comes for free.

I'll grant you, my capacity to dignify or do justice to any mildly facetious enquiry, or to overlook the fact you wouldn't be of the mind/have the balls to say out-loud what you just said if you weren't pissed, might have dwindled. The lengths I'm prepared to go to help, if only you'd trust and, in turn, respect my motives, are absolutely set in stone. Those that might not believe me, as Sallah might have said to Indiana, are "digging in the wrong place".