Would you like me to blow on it for you?

I've heard of people complaining that food is cold, but this was a new one on me. A lady ordered a half rack of ribs, which we serve on a hot skillet like fajitas. She complained that it was too hot.

Herpaderp

"I want to make a to-go order, but my husband hasn't called me to tell me what he wants. Can I just pay for it now and then call in later to tell you what he wants and you can make it then?"

Ummm. Yes, ma'am, that will be $300. Or maybe $3. Who knows.

I'll be your robot wish-fulfillment device tonight

"Hi! How are you doing tonight?"
"Get me an unsweetened iced tea."

On the subject of entitlement

Some people take offense to this kind of blog because they think bitching about the rude and poorly-behaved customers I wait on, who I have to say are in the minority, makes me "an arrogant, entitled bitch," a "whiner."

First off, as I said, this blog is just for me to vent. What the fuck is wrong with venting? You never vent about your job? Venting makes you arrogant and entitled? What the fuck ever

I'm pretty sure the "entitled" label is because I bitch about tips. Maybe to you, a tip is just "extra" for when you're feeling generous, or maybe you are resentful about having to tip. But for me it isn't extra; it's my wages for doing my job.

The restaurant pays me $2.13 an hour, which is about enough to cover taxes. I make that much because I am expected to make the majority of my money in tips. I have to give a percentage of my sales (not my tips, my sales) to the busser, the bartender, and the expediter if we have one. So if you leave a crap tip, I may not get any of it, because they get the same percentage no matter what. Worse, if you leave no tip, I actually paid for the privilege of waiting on your sorry ass. Not griping about that, because hey, it's what I signed up for and I know I can make enough to make it worth my while.

However, put yourself in a similar position for a moment. Imagine you take a job, and you do a badass job, do everything you're required to and more, and then after you've already done the work, your employer says they're going to pay you half the going rate. And then after that, they wanted you to do even more that isn't in your normal job description like scrub crayon off a concrete floor (for example lol). You'd just be okay with that? Or maybe you'd be insulted? Hell, you'd probably quit.

So haters, hate on. But I don't think I'm arrogant and entitled to feel like I should be paid for the work I do. Do you feel arrogant and entitled every time you deposit your paycheck?

BTW, I had a great night last night, everyone was so much fun and so great. :)

Don't Stereotype Your Tables

That is what they tell you, but really, you totally can in most cases.

Younger trio, kind of thuggy looking with tattoos and stuff, barely old enough to drink, and they cavelierly order the most expensive shit on the menu.

You see where this is going, right? Yeah, 10%.

Some people's children

Okay, I have a passel of children myself, and I canNOT believe the way people allow their children to behave in a restaurant. Tonight I was working on the patio, and the restaurant next to us (a super expensive steak house) had a live band on their patio, so the cheap people came and ate at our place and listened to their band.

There was a table who had a little boy of about 2 years old and a girl about 6 years old. I think it was the grandparents with them. Anyway, they sat there from 6:30 pm till about 10:00 pm, and of course, the kids were bored.

So what do grammy and grampa do? Why, they let the boy crawl all over the patio in between tables (IN THE DARK!) and also sit up against the door where servers come out onto the patio with big heavy trays of food. I told her she couldn't let him do that because it was dangerous, but she was too busy having a good time to watch him.

The kicker is when they let the girl draw all over the floor of the patio with a crayon. Fucking seriously! Who does that?

Some of the worst types

Tonight two women and four kids came in. Three of the kids were about 5-7 years old and the fourth was about 11-12. I get their drinks and their order and everything is fine. The order came up, and as it wouldn't all fit on one tray, the expediter filled up one tray and then called for a runner while I waited to get the second tray. For some reason, one of the women's chicken dish was not coming up. The runner returns to the kitchen. Half the table already has their food. Bleh. So I ask the cook what's holding up the chicken and whether I should go and come back for it or just wait a few more seconds. He says to go. So against my instincts, I go. I haaaaaaaaaaaaate not delivering all the food at once, but at this point it's already done and I didn't have any control over it.

I return to the kitchen and the chicken is ready. I start to walk out with it and the little ramekin of sauce (she asked for the sauce on the side) when I realize there is no cheese on the chicken. So I go back and they put some cheese on it and throw it in the oven so it will melt. Finally I arrive with the chicken and tell her that they had forgotten to put the cheese on it and so that is why it took so long.

They all dig in, and I go about helping other tables. Next thing you know I see the manager at the table giving the woman a fresh plate of chicken. I grab the manager and ask what the problem was. She said that the woman didn't want sauce on it, so she had it remade. I told her that it did not have sauce on it when I brought it out, and she shrugs. This tells me the woman did not address her problem with the manager at all. Or she put the sauce on it and decided she didn't like it. ORRRRRRRRRR, more likely, she was just trying to get something for free. :) Gee, wonder which it could be.

So then I go to the woman and ask if there was a problem with her chicken. She says it was severely overcooked. I apologize and ask if her new chicken is to her liking. She says it is.

Okay, so time passes and the kids manage to make the biggest fucking mess I've ever seen. They keep running to the hostess stand and grabbing toothpicks, gnawing on them, and dropping the broken remnants on the floor. Just dropping their goddamn trash on the floor and leaving it there. What. The. Fuck.

The woman asks me if she can have a to-go box for her chicken. I give one to her and apologize again for the first order of chicken. I get them their checks, cash them out, and then they proceed to sit there for another HOUR. The kids are bored as hell running around, bothering people, spreading the mess further and further away from the actual table.

When they finally get up and go, leaving behind a disaster of a mess in their wake, I go to pick up the checks. She has left a note on her credit card receipt that says, "I am very disappointed that I was charged for a meal that was late to begin with and then so terrible I couldn't eat it." UM. HAAAAAAAAAANG ON. You didn't get charged for that one. You got charged for the SECOND one, which you ate and took the rest home with you and fucking enjoyed.

At the bottom is a $2 tip on a $36.00 tab. Her cunt friend also left a dismal tip, $3 on a $42 tab. I don't make the food, I don't get to comp items, she spoke to the manager and didn't ask for anything to be comped, all of this was beyond MY personal control, AND we made it right, AND she sat there and hogged my table for hours, ANDDDD her little urchins trashed half the dining room, AND she came in here looking for an opportunity to get something free and she didn't, and she takes it out on me?

FUCK. HER.

Luckily all my other customers were delightful tonight.

Hello, my name is Dixie

And I'll be your waitress tonight.

After 9 years away, I returned to waiting tables after getting laid off at my job with a giganto computer manufacturer and going back to school. I thought I had encountered assholishly entitled customers before, but the customers in my current town really take the cake. I need a place to vent, so I figured I'd start a blog.