Thank You, Table 16...

You have restored my faith in restaurant patrons.

You came in and sat down, and remembered me from your last visit. You asked my name. You told me you knew I had been waiting tables at my store a long time.

Then you told me it was warm in the dining room. I said, "Yes, as a matter of fact, it is." You said, "We don't mind it so much, but you guys must be ROASTING!"

We laughed and I told you I would have the manager adjust the thermostat.

Thank-you, for thinking about the waitstaff. I have never had a table in seven years at this restaurant that cared whether or not we were sweating our asses off while we were serving you, and thank-you for voicing that to me.

You, my friends, are getting free dessert the next time you sit in my section. Thank-you for your empathy! It was much appreciated after the long week I have had.

This Time I'm Ready, Bitches...

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, the busiest restaurant day of the year, also known as The Day from Hell, Forget About a Smoke and/or Piss Break Day, and Run Your Ass Off Day. This time I am bringing a Mother's Day survival kit. Included in my kit:

1 Transdermal Nicotine Patch
1 16 oz. Rockstar Energy Drink (0 carb, blue can)
1 20 oz. Quadruple Shot Skinny French Vanilla Latte (to be procured @ my drive-thru coffee kiosk on the way to work)
1 Pair Old Navy flip-flops, in purple (to be changed into immediately after my shift)
1 Pack Camel 99's Full Flavor (to be smoked immediately after my shift)
1 Six Pack Hornby's Hard Cider (to be consumed immediately after my arrival home from work)

Bring it on, motherbitches, this time I am ready for you!

Sorry To My Readers...

Haven't been feeling it lately. It's been a craptastic week. I don't even want to go to work, and I don't feel like writing about it either. Had a lot of personal stuff going on. Don't stop checking in here, and please feel free to comment on my posts. I will always try to reply, and follow my followers, too. I should be back to my old self, soon.

спасибо

I think that says thanks. To all the Russian fans I have. (3?) According to my Blogger traffic. :-)

Also, thank you Alaska, Australia, and Danke, Deutscheland.;-)

And not to forget Canada, eh!

Week From Hell...

This week has been the shits.

My coworker, Ruby* (because she reminds me of the horribly irritating character on the kids cartoon "Max and Ruby"), has been out sick all week.

Instead of finding someone to cover her shifts, management decided to do a typical half ass job and just let one of the other girls cover the first half. Now Ruby opens, and her replacement (a sweet but waaaaay too laid back lady we'll call Ditzy) has been opening as well. But Ditzy has another job she has to be at, which means she has been leaving @ 11 AM.

Today Ditzy had an out of town appointment, and had to leave at 8 AM. I was not supposed to be there until 8:45. The Kitchen Manager came out to my car while I was having my before work smoke and says, "GM needs you inside. Ditzy has to leave and there is no waitress."

"Too fucking bad. I am smoking." I replied.

I sat in my car and finished my cigarette. When I was good and ready, I went inside and clocked in (20 minutes early). Apparently another server I will call Slutty (self-explanatory) said she would be there at 8.

9 AM, still no Slutty. Ditzy high-tailed it, so I was alone, and gettin slammed. At one point I had about fifteen or sixteen tables. Luckily I had a hostesses, but do you think GM thought it maybe appropriate to come out of the office and HELP? No way, dude. Fuck that shit, he was probably taking a nap in the office because Tuesday night is Karaoke at the bar and he had a massive hangover this morning. He only came out when I told the cooks, "If you want that hot food run, you better go get GM."

Nearly 9:30, Slutty shows up, and waltzes in like she was right on time. WTF? She told me later she forgot to set her alarm. Fuck that. You say you will be there, your ass should be there. But then again, we have management who won't cover a full shift, for a whole week straight.

Sidework has been a nightmare, too, since we have been short-handed. Thank God tomorrow is my fucking Friday.

I Want to Kick My GM Where His Balls Should Be...

If he had them, that is.

Every Wednesday we have a group that meets at my restaurant at noon. They always sit in the back room. They do little speeches. A couple of them are cranky old battle axes, and are quite anal about the way the table are set up. They move all the silverware, jelly caddies, condiment holders, table tents, etc. (a crapload of shit), to one table. They need TWO pitchers of water. Then they shove all the tables into a big clusterfuck menagerie. When they first started coming in, a lot of them would order lunch, or at least drinks. Gradually they ordered less and less, until it was one person having a coffee.

For the past two weeks none of them have ordered ANYTHING!

Just water. That's it. Ten glasses and two pitchers.

And guess who gets to spend a half hour cleaning up after these fucks? Yours truly.

And the cake topper?

Not a dime gratuity.

Fuck that noise. I heard a rumor we were going to charge for our rooms if people don't buy food. Good. This is a business we are trying to run. If they went to the conference center down the road their asses would pay. If you don't want to pay to meet, go to the library, or one of your members' homes. Don't come in and waste my time. Especially at the end of my shift. Staying an extra half an hour to clean up after these weiners for minimum wage? I could be on my way home and then...weeding my garden, doing my laundry, cleaning my toilet or picking my ass. You are wasting my time, and time is money, motherbitches.

The way I see it is, they fuck up the room, not order anything, not tip? They at least put that shit back the way they found it. Period. My GM, unfortunately, is either too indifferent or too much of a pussy to tell one of them. Other servers have offered to leave notes in the room telling these people to pick up after themselves. He vetoed that idea. He is such a spineless turd.

I am halfway tempted to Google this organization and send an email to someone about this ridiculousness. Should I? Or should I take a page outta the Eunich's Guide to Restaurant Management, and just bring them ONE pitcher of water and six glasses next week? Then just five glasses of water and NO pitcher the week after that until they get the effing hint already?

What Would Jesus Do? (To You Nazi Assf*ck)

You won't believe what happened today at my restaurant.

I was doing some running sidework in the kitchen, and jamming out singing along to the radio (the song was "Magic" B.O.B. with Rivers Cuomo) and thinking, "Wonder who closed last night and left this station on. I wonder how long before GM switches it to elevator music?" When a fellow server came up to me and said, "Check out what the guy on 63 just said. I asked him how he was doing this morning, and he said 'Pretty good until I came in here and heard this monkey music playing.'"

My jaw dropped to the floor.

She continued on. "Then he made some kind of comment like, 'We're all white in here, aren't we?'"

Since my jaw was already on the floor, my eyes bugged out. I said, "NO WAY! You have gotta be shitting me."

"No," she said. "I swear."

My shock gave way to anger right about now. She continued to serve him and ignore the fact that he was a gigantic white supremacist chunk of smegma. She told the GM, and being the passive weiner that he is, TURNED OFF THE MUSIC ALTOGETHER..
I was outraged. I told her that KKK piece of shit was lucky she waited on him, because I would've flipped the fuck out on him. I would have told him we serve all PEOPLE here, if he didn't like it, he could crawl back to whatever sewer he popped out of. And by the way,my son is half Mexican, got anything cute to say about that?

I know that this state is a little behind the times, but I have never seen such a rampant display of racism. Anyone have any advice on how to deal with it? A happy medium between my go fuck yourself and my coworker/GMs ignorant ignoring?

When Good Tables Go Bad

Yesterday I waited on a group of four ladies. Appeared maybe Grandma, Mom, two teenage daughters. Three of them ordered drinks, three of them got meals, and one girl ordered two chocolate chip pancakes. Mom said, "We will also need an order of biscuits and gravy to go."

Although we have both pancakes and chocolate chips, the two are not a menu combination. We have to give the cooks the chocolate chips, and request they drop them in after they put the cakes on the grill. No problem. When I ran the food, the cakes looked a little naked,as the chips were only on the bottom. Brought extra chips on the side for the girl to put on top.

Checked back. Everything was fine. Told Mom, "Got that to go order in for you, it will be right out." (At this time I had a sixteen top in the back room I was in the midst of waiting on, but wanted to make sure Mom knew I didn't forget her request.) The biscuits come up, I drop them off, notice they appear to need boxes for the remainder of their meals. As I was caring for the party of 16, I had another server drop the boxes by, including little cups for the au jus for their French dips.

Busy, busy with the 16. Assistant manager who actually likes to help us bus tables instead of standing there watching us like our GM, clears the table. I didn't have a chance to go back until quite later. What I found on the table was astonishing.

$2.

Really. No shit. Two. Mother. Fucking. Dollars.

Their bill had to have been at least $50. In what universe is $2 a suitable tip for even mediocre service? IMHO, I gave them stellar service, with a fucking smile. They all appeared to be happy with the service and enjoy their meals.

To me this is inexcusable. Don't mindfuck me into thinking you are all happy and nicey nice, then fuck off and leave me a ridiculous tip.

Especially remember this is a small town, and I have a pretty good memory. Next time you get $2 service.

Hello, *Sniffle*, How Are You Doing today? *Sniffle* What Can I Bring You to Drink? *Sneeze*

There is nothing worse than having to wait on people when you have a head cold from Hell.

I have never really worked in any other industry, so I don't really know how it goes for other occupations when one becomes ill. I do know that at my job, if you call in sick on a Sunday, you basically fuck everyone else's world. So even though I knew I felt like hammered dog shit yesterday, and this morning, there was no option of calling off. It's a real bitch to get anyone to cover for you, especially after a lot of the employees just got their tax refunds back. Everyone is sitting pretty, financially speaking. Now around Christmas shopping time, bitches will straight poke your eye out so they can steal your shift.

So I grabbed my stash of Advil Cold and Sinus, stuffed it in my purse, sucked it up and headed out the door this morning.God bless pseudoephederine and ibuprofin, especially in that combination.

What can I say, I'm a soldier!

Arrived at work just in time to clock in without being late. Made good and sure everyone knew how close to passing out from sinus pressure and ear pain that I was. Everyone. The other servers, the hostess, the managers. I figured that way everyone would take pity and go easy on me. Maybe, just maybe, I could take off early.

Fuck no.

At least it was slow, but I still had to stay until after Church rush, and do all my sidework. Which is fine, I understand my responsibilities, but every so often miracles happen, right?

It also irks me that I have stayed and finished sidework for the other team leader at least two or three times in the past year. She was there today, but do you think she offered to stay for me, or even help me do some of my sidework so I could get the fuck outta there? Hells no. Just high-tailed it out the door like her panties were on fire.

She doesn't have to worry, I will NEVER do her ANY favors again.

Sorry to rant. I hate waiting on people when I feel like shit, am all doped up on cold meds, and my nose is running down my face. I feel like my guests are staring at me like I have gonnaherpesyphillaids, and can't wait for me to get the fuck away from them.

At least my sweet co-worker, Paula* offered to pick up my shift tomorrow. Thanks, Paula, you are one in a million. Angels really do exist! :)

*All names are changed

Two Words: Basketball Tournaments

It's that lovely time of year again, the snow is melting, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming...and tournaments are back on at the high school.

Servers at my store have a love/hate relationship with the tournaments. We love the money that we usually make, we hate waiting on teams of 15 + teenagers. The straw wrappers flying across the room, the yelling when trying to get your attention, the countless refills...and that's just the coaches!

I waited on 3 bus loads of kids between 9 am and 11:30 am on Thursday. Two of them were great, please and thank-you well-behaved young adults. The coaches on those two teams took care of the bill with purchase orders, and I got 20% gratuity from them.

The other group were a loud, immature, pesky nightmare of a group that were, "Ready."

"Oh we're not ready. Take them first."

"Shut up, Christie*. We ARE ready. We'll get our food first." As I stand there for fifteen minutes while Still-Not-Ready-Christie makes up her mind. French toast or pancakes? French toast or pancakes? Christie consults with six other girls and finally the vote is in,

Ladies and gentlemen, Christie will have the pancakes! Ta da!

Sorry Christie's unlucky friend, no you won't get your food first. See I have your seats numbered, and guess which table is going into that computer dead last? That's right, the very indecisive yet democratic Miss Christie.

After finally serving everyone, I notice the coach has already whipped out the school credit card and tells me he needs an itemized receipt. No problem. Being the awesome experienced super server that I am, I have everyones food and drink rang in by seat. Easy for the coach, easy for me, easy for the kitchen, and most importantly, easy to split the bill if for some reason the little A-holes have to pay for their own. (God forbid!)

I swipe the card and return it to him, but another bus had rolled in so I didn't get to collect the slip until after they left. I walked over hoping for 15%, praying for 20%.

$167 bill. NO TIP on the receipt.

I noticed random dollars on some of the table and realized the worst had come true.

The team was responsible for the tip.

FUCK!

NOOOOOOO!

I gathered up my pittance. $17. On $167 tab. It worked out to be a little less than $1 per person. Shitty. At least the other teams tipped better, so my overall tips for the day worked out to be more than the 10% I get taxed on.

I really don't mean to whine, everything worked out okay, but some days I really wish my restaurant had automatic gratuity on large parties. Anyone else have any war stories to share?

*All names are changed because I still need my job, when I win the lottery and become independently wealthy I promise I will out all the evil customers I have ever had. Cross your fingers for me!