The Spirit of a Pretentious Knob at Christmas

To the Pretentious Knob at the Restaurant Where Amanda Works:

Dear Pretentious Knob,
I have just heard of your behaviour last night and am writing to offer my sincerest condolences for what I assume must be a pathetic little existence. It's lovely to hear that at a time of year when the spirit of Christmas is supposed to be alive and well, that there are still people like you who like nothing more than to ruin it for everybody.

I understand you waited 20 minutes for cocktails on one of the busiest nights of the year! Good God. Well, I must say that is just absolutely appalling. I think that's probably one of the worst things I've ever heard. I think that if I was to look at all the experiences of life of all the six billion people on the planet, that waiting twenty minutes for cocktails has to be up there with the most terrible of them! Forget the people who've lost loved ones, forget the senseless murder of millions, forget life debilitating illnesses (one of which the new waitress you abused has, by the way), forget the millions of people living below the poverty line in third world countries and the homeless on our streets, forget the downtrodden and the meek (don't worry too much about them anyway, they're going to inherit the earth), forget those lives that have been torn apart by natural disaster or human folly, yes forget them...

Oh wait. It appears you already have.

I'm so glad that nothing awful happened to you in the twenty minutes that passed as you waited and waited and waited in the warmth and lovely ambience of a beautiful restaurant passing time in the wonderful company of your two sycophantic companions. I can only assume the conversation was not stimulating enough to make the interminable wait tolerable. So well done on your choice of friends as well. I bet the conversation went a little like this:

Pretentious Knob: Good lord the service here is rubbish. I'm a knob.

Sycophantic Knob: God yes I agree. I'm a massive knob too.

Other Knob: Oh yes. Isn't it lovely that we can all be such knobs together. At Christmas, the time of knobbiness. Where are our cocktails?

So I'd just like to say that I wish you a Merry Christmas, since it's fairly plain that anyone who actually knows you (and isn't a knob) won't be wishing you one. I'd feel bad if you were left out of the Christmas cheer. 

I wish you and your lack of understanding, your lack of empathy and your lack of knowledge about what would make this world a better place a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I hope for your and everyone else's sake, that you grow up soon and are able to figure out what is actually important in life. Given that you are fifty five years old I am surprised you haven't figured it out already.

One last thing. The new waitress is one of the sweetest, most giving and generous people I have ever met in my entire life. When she tried to smile as she apologised to you she wasn't doing it to spite you. She was trying to make everything alright. Well done for making her feel like shit.

Happy Holidays.

ps. I know that you intend to write a review of the restaurant and post it on the internet, I think you said that a review like the one you are going to write will close the restaurant down for good. Well all I can say is that such a piece of prose would have to be very powerful indeed, I look forward to reading the work of an author whose mastery of the literary form is so substantial that he may close a restaurant with a stroke of his mighty pretentious pen. Having said that, I understand that the great authors all have something which you apparently lack. EMPATHY. So I'm not holding my breath.

pps. Just so you know. When you post your review. I'm gonna post this underneath it.