My Dear Sir,

To the anorexic man in the short sleeve shirt (accentuating the bones in your upper arms), who walked away before taking my order, then came back and watched and played with the key-ring on your bony hip instead of looking me in the eye at lunch yesterday:

Oh never mind. I think you get my point.

Watch what kind of impression your staff is making.

Carefully.

 

Grow and be well,

Kelly Erickson

P.S. The table you sat us at was dirty.