empty november

At work, I learn the "dance." I stand at the "pass," I get my wet wipes, I scan for fingerprints or stray sprays of "périgourdine." When I "drop," I "hug" the guest warmly between quotation marks. I come home truffle-infused.

In this (sous-vide) pressure-cooker environment, I try to inject levity as artfully as "sauce Mornay" is piped into pâte à choux:

Artless Kitchen Server: So the "tagliatelle" is basically blanched celery root sliced into "ribbons," so it looks like pasta, then...
Me: So it's not tagliatelle per se...
AKS: Well it's the "celeriac tagliatelle"...

I've quickly learned this is not a good idea, and to focus instead on my "intensity" and "finesse." The confidentiality agreement I signed, while not per se invalid per se, I'm pretty sure amounts to nothing; what if I just always put the restaurant's name in quotes, so as to differentiate the real restaurant from my own interpretation of it?