If you call Bank of No Forks and only Australians answer the phone you’ll know why

We went out to dinner last night. Nowhere special, just the world’s loudest restaurant. You know the kind – there’s sixty-five television screens AND piped in music AND five thousand people all talking at once. I like those places when you’re with your kids cause no one can hear you beating them in the booth.

I must have been in a bit of a mood – although I hadn’t felt that way before I walked into the place. The hostess however made me want to beat her down. I don’t know when customer service went out the window, but some bitches need slapping.

We were finally shown to a table and our waiter showed up promptly. He seemed a perfectly nice fellow when he introduced himself and took our drink orders with a soft Southern accent.

Our drinks came quickly as did salads and mozzarella sticks. Oddly, there seemed to be less of a Southern accent and more of a mid-Western one. I looked to My Honey, but he didn’t seem to notice anything odd.

Then came our dinners. Our waiter dropped them off and chatted us up – with an outrageous Australian accent.

Later, when Sassy sent her ranch dressing back due to a stray hair, he was very clearly unaccented in any way.

WTF? I pointed this out to my family who joined forces with me to see how many reasons we could make him come talk to us. Of course, I could have just asked him what the deal was but what would have been the fun in that? Isn’t is always much more fun to make up a story?

Do waiters get bored?Is he an aspiring actor? Is he able to soup up his tips by adopting accents? I can dig that concept, but it seemed like it would have been easier to keep the same accent per table. Or maybe per night. Like Wednesday could be Australian day. Tuesday could be Tennessee Williams day.

I don’t know. What do you guys think? What’s his deal?