Who or what is Whitney, and why are we in her world?

Whitney is the name of a server that we had the pleasure of dining with at a first-rate restaurant in Chicago. She refused to serve us cappuccino, claiming that the restaurant was out of it (although other diners not served by Whitney were blatantly sipping on their ‘cinos, showing us who was boss). She poured a bread basket full of crumbs atop Joshboy’s head and made no attempts to clean them up. She attempted to place an order for an omelet, with nothing in it besides the eggs. She had a habit of leaving us alone for stretches at a time, disappearing into an ‘Employees Only’ area, armed only with her purse, untrimmed pinky finger and a bag of cocaine. While paying the $48 bill on a single credit card, she somehow managed to charge the card for $97.65….hitting almost every key on the keyboard besides the two that were on the check. Although our time with Whitney was short, the impact on our lives is infinite.

Since that morning, we have labeled anyone with a Sadim Touch (the opposite of a Midas Touch) as being ‘Whitney’. Whitney is the barista at Starbucks who doesn’t make your latte for thirty minutes, primarily when you are in a hurry to get to brunch. Whitney is a zookeeper at the Washington, DC zoo who hides all the animals and leaves signs stating that the animals are temporarily removed. No big deal. Whitney is the bus driver who is unable to distinguish between the brake and the gas pedals when you are en route from NYC after spending 13 straight hours drinking only Coors Light and Sparks. Whitney is the mayor in charge of ensuring that no chewing gum, bottled water or Italian restaurants are smuggled into the confines of her city. Whitney works for the Department of Transportation in Boston and makes Airport Detour signs using only cardboard and a Sharpie. Whitney works at Rock Bottom Brewery and only takes 50% of the dinner orders.

Whitney is everywhere, and she cannot be stopped; we can only hope to contain her.