"We" do not include "You" but Gonzo Goes!

I'm crabby again. Flint's already getting on my nerves. Here's the latest chigger in my linguistic getalong:

At three separate restaurants since getting home -- in three different strata, (Olive Garden, Bob Evans, and the Red Rooster) our servers insisted on using the smarmy "we."

"Are WE ready to order?"
(What, YOU'RE going to dine with us? But I hardly know you)

"Will we be having a cocktail before dinner?"
(I don't know if your manager would approve, but before you take off your apron to join us, which you apparently plan to, yes, bring me a kamikaze, wouldja? I bet this job makes you thirsty as hell, and I'd be glad to tip one with you, but just don't put it on my bill.)

"Would we be interested in a sample of today's wine for 25 cents which will go to charity?" (Great idea, by the way -- see, I'm not totally nasty. Bring me one of each.)

"Are we enjoying our [steak gorgonzola/strawberry waffle/wilted spinach salad] so far?" (I don't see you eating, chump -- and I'd enjoy mine a lot better if you weren't violating my pronoun protocols)

"Are we planning on having dessert?"
(This is just too creepy, that you've crawled inside me but don't know the answer to that one...of course we were planning on having it, but we have a superego, too, honey, not big but as persistent as a mommie chihuahua, and we can look in the mirror, can't we? Follow my lead, darlin -- neither of us needs any more avoirdupois around the hips, and I mean that kindly)

"Are we perhaps interested in a takehome box?"
(Who're YOU feeding back home? I've got my guy right here, thank you)

Who trains these people?

I know, I know, I'm a spoiled brat. Lucky to be able to GO out to eat. And afflicted with a rash of verbal pet peeves. While the world falls apart, THIS is what bothers me?

OK, we're shutting up now and taking our new water filter out of its box. We're giving up bottled water for good. See, that matters.

And celebrating the at-last departure of one of the worst Attorneys General in history, the last holdout from the Texas mafia of the worst president in history. And THAT matters. Gonzo gone!

We're pretty pleased. Here's my 25 cents -- let me try that pinot noir. What charity again? Now we want to try the syrah. Here's another quarter. Here's to a new gov'mint someday soon. We like that zin. A quarter for some brunello? Oh, what the hell, bring us the whole bottle.