keep gelflings out of america...

Jenn and I went to dinner the other night and we had a Gelfling as our waitress. I know I’m going to get labeled as a racist for saying this, but I hate it when it happens. I mean, for customer service of any kind, they don’t have the right tools or abilities.
Have you ever noticed in a face-to-face interaction with them that their lips don’t really match the words that are coming out of their heads. If you tune out the words you are hearing, the mouth movements they’re making should only form the sounds, “Muuh. Mah, muhmuh, muuh, muh, mah.” It’s unsettling. Couple that with their weird little faces and doll-ish body formality and live customer relations jobs should be discounted for them completely.
They should not do telephone support of any kind, either. That lilting, sing-song, and breathy way they speak? It goes through my head like a soft, rose-colored ice pick. I asked Jenn what that accent they had was. She said she believed it was the speech pattern of a benign and gentle race who promote kindness and tolerance.
To hell with that. This is America. You come to America you learn how to speak American. Damn it.
So, without the skills to successfully complete any of the above job types, why would you go into waitressing, for god’s sake? Those inadequacies alone should be enough to keep you from trying to wait tables, but that’s not nearly the end of their failings.
I made reference to the unsettling nature of their faces when they speak. If only that were the end of it. I know all of you reading are good people, and you probably try to not notice these things, but really take a look at the next Gelfling you’re around. Watch what they do.
We were on the second level of this restaurant. You had to go up a little flight of stairs to get to it. When our waitress would step onto the stairs to make her way up to us, invisible, almost invisible, strings would appear on all of her joints. These strings went up, up, up into the air… to what? I don’t know and I’m sure I don’t want to know.
When it was time for her to go down the stairs, she didn’t climb them down, no. Little pink wings sprouted from her back and she glided down them.
How have we, as a society, become so politically correct as to allow this to go on without saying anything? How do we allow it and pretend not to notice?
When she came back with our food, I knew what was coming next. They have no manual dexterity really at all, when you watch closely. They trick you. It looks like they’re accomplishing something, and somehow, if you lose focus, they do accomplish what they’re trying to do. But you can’t SEE them actually do it.
What am I talking about? This waitress is a perfect example. When she delivered our food, she put it all on the table with what appeared to be an almost random, not-quite-flailing of her arms. I never saw her actually pick anything up. She just kind of pushed it around with her floppy hands.
I blinked. When I looked down at the table, everything was where it was supposed to be. Creepy.
I decided to push the issue. I know they have no finger articulation. I know it. I don’t know how they get through the day or tie their shoes, but I know they can’t move their digits.
I asked the waitress, Kira, or something, to open the bottle of ketchup for me.
Yes! Her face took on what I like to call, Gelfling face number 3. The one where the eyes get wide, the eyebrows go way up, and the mouth opens like this, “Aahhhhh.”
Strings appear, she jumps up and runs away.
I have a good laugh, but Jenn looks at me disapprovingly.
Hey. Another thing you have to be able to do if you’re going to come to America is open a bottle of ketchup.
So dinner progresses and it’s fine. Then, I run out of Diet Coke. I need tasty beverage to wash down my burger... Wait, I’m crossing my movie references… Er…
I like soda.
She’s taking a really long time to come back, and when she finally does, she looks all haggard and drawn. Great. She’s selling her everlasting essence on the side. Filthy Gelfling! Naughty Gelfling! HATEFUL GELFLING!

We pay the bill, get on our Landstrider and head home.