Grill Pat

Harry Powell

He probably still uses a George Foreman grill. He posted somewhere once about some "business trip" he was on and he went out to dinner with some coworkers. I don't know where it was but it was a step up from outback, and he ordered a steak well done. I'm surprised he didn't ask for ketchup too. He's a classless Midwestern rube, as well as a fat, bloated alcoholic.

That’s a classic tale from the era of Alpha Sales-Boss Pat.

When he was selling insurance with Ade, he was somehow “in charge” of other sales people via some kind of MLM-esque scheme.

He is so full of himself in the story. He talks about flying out for a visit with his INFERIORS, “glad-handing” and “wining and dining”.

It’s a 30-minute preamble of him talking about himself like some mythical Wall Street business honcho, then it gets to him ordering his well done steak.

I have no clue what the point of his story was other than to impress his interviewer with his WILD and VARIED and SUCCESSFUL career history.
 

Harry Powell

You're not witty, clever, or funny, Pat:

"I ordered my ‘starch’, mashed red potatoes with the skins left in, my meat, a filet mingon well-done, and another round of drinks.

"I’m sure some of you are cringing at the very concept of a well-done filet mingon, but the texture of rare meat doesn’t agree with my palate. I understand that many carnivores prefer their steak’s experience with fire to be limited to burning the hair off a still twitching slab of muscle tissue, but I don’t believe we stole fire from the Gods just as a way to smoke-up our tents. I want my meat good and dead. The trouble with this is, under normal circumstances, I ask for well-done with the expectation that the cook will assume I’ve suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury, leaving me incapable of forming or holding rational opinions, and therefore deliver a steak the way he wants to cook it, which is typically medium if I’m very lucky. The alternative is, since the furthest most cooks ever go with their steaks is medium, if they actually venture into the unexplored territory of cooking a well-done order, they invariably cook it until it has the texture of saddle leather found amongst the artifacts of a Civil War era battlefield."

I wonder what well-known disorder has texture and other sensory issues as a hallmark diagnostic symptom?
 

JoeBrotheChildSpitGuzzler

I Am Racist Man Leader of the Digital Ku Klux Klan
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I wonder what well-known disorder has texture and other sensory issues as a hallmark diagnostic symptom?
I've gone back and forth and always settled back to "he's a poorly-socialized man-child". Which somehow the 'tism got expanded to include. I.e., the retardation wasn't coming from inside the house, but from outside influences that resulted in... Pat.
 
You're not witty, clever, or funny, Pat:

"I ordered my ‘starch’, mashed red potatoes with the skins left in, my meat, a filet mingon well-done, and another round of drinks.

"I’m sure some of you are cringing at the very concept of a well-done filet mingon, but the texture of rare meat doesn’t agree with my palate. I understand that many carnivores prefer their steak’s experience with fire to be limited to burning the hair off a still twitching slab of muscle tissue, but I don’t believe we stole fire from the Gods just as a way to smoke-up our tents. I want my meat good and dead. The trouble with this is, under normal circumstances, I ask for well-done with the expectation that the cook will assume I’ve suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury, leaving me incapable of forming or holding rational opinions, and therefore deliver a steak the way he wants to cook it, which is typically medium if I’m very lucky. The alternative is, since the furthest most cooks ever go with their steaks is medium, if they actually venture into the unexplored territory of cooking a well-done order, they invariably cook it until it has the texture of saddle leather found amongst the artifacts of a Civil War era battlefield."

This is the gayest thing I’ve read here and that’s really saying something.
 

DeadWithoutMyDavid

xe/xim/xey
Worked in some "high end" kitchens in uni and guaranteed those knives (they're more like props) are for retarded rubes like Pat. That server hates him too and just wants to go do a rail in the staff bathroom to help get through her shift.
I don't know what I'd be supposed to do in that situation. I never put any thought into the finer points of the design of what steak knife I'm gonna use.

Just gimme a fuckin knife and a container of coffee, negress.
 
Worked in some "high end" kitchens in uni and guaranteed those knives (they're more like props) are for retarded rubes like Pat. That server hates him too and just wants to go do a rail in the staff bathroom to help get through her shift.

The main reason he took that photo is because she's black. He's like George Costanza trying to find black people to be seen with so he can prove to his black coworker he has black friends.
 
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