My Cousin Vinny (the mute crook)

Add this to my list of pet peeves: retail workers who don’t communicate. For instance, you’re standing at the prescription counter at Walgreens, waiting to pick up your drugs and the tech behind the counter sees you but is fumbling around with the pills. I know she’s busy. I know she can’t get to me right now. But still, SAY something. I mean, is a little “I’ll be right with you” too much to ask?

Oh, here’s another one, ordering at a fast food place: “I’d like a cheeseburger, small fries and a water.” Then after you place your order you see this sign that says, “Buy a Pepsi and get half off your burger and a free large fry!” So you just paid $3.42 for your burger and small fries when you could have paid $2.68 and gotten a real drink and more fries—if only the retail worker had said, “Um, you know if you get…”

But no, he’s gotta be Mute Marcus.

So this weekend we wander into “Cousin Vinny’s,” a pizza place on Tybee Island, GA.

The next exchange between me (WG) and Mute Marcus (MM) is what will be replayed over and over again in a court of law so pay attention:

WG: Do you have veggie pizza?
MM: Yes.
WG reads the menu, sees that a single slice is $1.75. Assumes slices must be small.
WG: Okay, I’ll just have two slices of veggie pizza.
MM: What do you want on it?
WG: What do you have?
MM points to list on menu.
WG: So I can have as many of these as I want? (Giddiness in voice)
MM: Yes.
WG: Okay, then, I want tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, red onions, onions, spinach, extra cheese, olives, green peppers, red peppers, yellow peppers, banana peppers, artichokes and pineapples.


I go sit down at the table and when Frank comes back with the drinks I glance at the receipt--$19.97? How did we spend $20 at a place where one slice of pizza is $1.75? I went back up to MM and say, “Did you think I wanted an entire pizza cause I just wanted two slices.”

MM: No.
WG: Then why is it $20?
MM: Well, with all the toppings you got.
WG: What? I thought I could have as many as I wanted?
MM: You can. For fifty cents each.

WG, fuming: What? They’re fifty cents each? When I said, “Oh, I can have as many as I want?” I think that showed that I was unaware that there would be an additional charge! I mean, I didn’t need all those! I don’t even really like red onions and I actually hate olives. I mean, pineapples? That’s like a total splurge! You really thought I wanted to turn a $3.50 meal into $14.00? Great. Now I guess I have no choice but to eat this $50 pizza!!

MM: Silence. Glazed over. Crickets.

I went back to my table and repeated the whole rant to Frank (as if he couldn’t hear). In between screaming I glared at MM. Frank told me to calm down or MM would spit in my food. “I thought it was some dive pizza place so they didn’t nickel and dime you for toppings,” I reasoned, in between sulks.

When another guy brought out our food he said, “Well, somebody must be hungry!” He then set down in front of me two slices of pizza that were each bigger than the size of my first tricycle:

He then added, “These are both for you? You know, I can go get you a doggy bag!” Um, why didn’t MM mention that the slices are HUGE when I ordered them? In my mind, this is how that original exchange should have gone:


WG: Do you have veggie pizza?
MM: Yes.
WG reads the menu, sees that a single slice is $1.75. Assumes slices must be small.
WG: Okay, I’ll just have two slices of veggie pizza.
MM: Just warning you, they’re pretty big. Here, I’ll show you.
WG: Oh, thanks for showing me. Just one piece, please.
MM: What do you want on it?
WG: What do you have?
MM points to list on menu.
WG: So I can have as many of these as I want? (Giddiness in voice)
MM: Yes, for fifty cents each.
WG: Then I want one piece of plain pizza.


That’s FOURTEEN extra words! That’s all he would have had to say. That is like the same amount of words as this very sentence right here.

Sure, I wouldn’t have spent at much at Cousin Vinny’s but what does MM care? I doubt he’s working on commission. Besides, we would have tipped him well for his honesty. Plus, I wouldn’t have told other patrons who walked into the restaurant: “Don’t eat here! They’ll rob you!”

I realized though that rage must really make you work up an appetite.

I didn’t even need the doggy bag.