“Put that phone down, Mama. Your food is getting cold. What are you? Twelve-years-old?”
I glanced up from my phone and noticed our server holding a coffee pot and flashing a rosy-cheeked smile. Apparently, she had just called me out on my phone usage while dining in her café.
I gave her one of my taken aback “I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that” looks.
First off, I have never had anyone call me ‘Mama’ other than the person who is supposed to call me Mama and he calls me Mom.
Once our server caught on that she might have offended me, she said, “Oh, I say that all the time to my best friends. I just don’t want your food to get cold.”