I just woke up from a weird dream.
I was working in my mom's old restaurant, The Pancake House. I'm not sure if I was just waiting tables or running the place, when Diedrich Bader came to me with a pained expression on his face. He was obviously some middle manager of some sort and he had a bottle in his hand.
DB: "Did you just talk to a customer about our Melba toast?"
ME "Yeah, somebody asked me about that earlier today."
DB: Did you tell him that we have mango in our melba toast?
ME: I certainly did not. We have mango in the melba toast?
DB:Well, it is mango flavoring and it is what makes our melba toast special and you failed to point this out when the customer asked about it.
ME: I certainly did. I had no idea that there was mango in the melba toast. I've worked here 22 years and this is the first time anyone has even come close to ordering it. In fact, i wonder if that bottle of mango flavoring is 22 years old, I doubt we've ever needed it. Of course, no one put Mango in anything 22 years ago, so it can't possibly be that old.
DB:This is why we are not selling more melba toast.
ME: That and the fact that everything else on the menu tastes an order of magnitude better.
DB:You don't seem to be taking this seriously.
ME: No, I can't possibly take this seriously. But you are for some strange reason. That's kind of troubling to me. You've also taken up an large amount of my time on this discussion. Therefore, I shall have to tender my resignation. Let's consider this my two weeks.
ME: Yes, clearly I am failing in the melba toast department. By the way, when you call down to payroll for my check, be sure to tell them that I have 16 weeks of vacation piled up, and I'll need to cash that out too. By the end of the day should be fine.
This was a strange dream, but I woke up from it bemused at strangely satisfied. For the record, mom's restaurant never did serve Melba toast -- and we never had middle managers. Moreover, we got along just fine without mango melba toast or middle managers.