His restaurant is named after himself.

The decor is based on his infamous suits (infamous because he often dresses as a cow).

The drink-list is fashioned after many of his more popular “sayings.”

I work for him.

As a waiter/manager.

Tonight, after a game at the Garden, he arrives, looking for autograph seekers. There are none. Those that had showed up got tired of waiting for him and left. Since there was no one in the joint, I tell him I’m thinking of closing the kitchen. Would he care for some food to take home?

“I’ll have chicken,” he says without looking at me.

There are several chicken dishes on the menu. I ask him which one he prefers.

He says: “Didn’t I just tell you I want the chicken?”

I understand his confusion. He’s preoccupied with a picture of himself on one of the 60 television sets that riddle the place.

I decide to order him the Grilled Chicken. It’s safe.

“Would you care for some mashed potatoes or creamed spinach with your chicken?”

“No…just chicken.”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“And I want something to go with my chicken.”

“What would that be, sir?”

“I want some chicken.”

His last line gives me pause, because I can’t believe what I had just heard.

“Um…you want chicken with your chicken?”

“Yeah.”

“And nothing else?”

“Nope. I don’t want any of that other junk you mentioned. It has bad stuff in it.”

“Potatoes and spinach have bad stuff in them?”

“Yeah. Bad stuff.”

I place an order for two grilled chicken breasts. I ask the chef to toss in an order of mashed potatoes and a double order of creamed spinach…just for fun.

I give it to him. He takes it and leaves without saying another word.

The next day I’m fired for disobeying my boss.

Go Knicks!!