Mmmmm...Rat Hair

Yesterday, I brought a grilled chicken salad in for lunch. It was left over from my book club the night before. I didn't think to bring in a salad dressing for myself, so I ordered some raspberry vinagrette and a slice of bread from the little Italian restaurant in the lobby of the building I work in. I often order salads or pasta from this place. The food is excellent but the service is very slow. So I usually get it to go.

I travelled down to the restaurant and saw my bread and dressing waiting for me, tied up in a nice plastic grocery sack. The waitress came over and said, "That'll be a dollar fifty, please."

"OK," I said, thinking it a bit steep for two small containers of dressing and a hunk of bread, but whatever.

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I handed her two dollars and told her to keep the change.

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"Thanks," she said as she started walking back to the kitchen. Then she turned her had and said, "Enjoy the rat hair!"

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"Uh," I said, furrowing my brow, "You too!"

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I left the restaurant confused. I had no idea what she actually said. She couldn't possibly have said "enjoy the rat hair," could she?

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I explained it to my co-workers when I returned to the office. They thought it was strange too. Eventually, we figured out that the lady probably said, "Enjoy the Raspberry!" Somehow, I didn't feel one hundred percent reassured.