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WednesdayJanuary
22, 2003
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There are only so many days a person can waitress in a row without
a day off before she runs out of smiles. I have just completed
my seventh day of non-stop waiting tables, and at this point,
I've run out of common courtesy. Tonight, I was a straight up
bitch. Obviously, it's not my tables fault that I'm burnt out.
Obviously they deserve just as good of service as the service
I gave on day one, but obviously I don't give a shit because
I'm fucking tired. For you readers who ironically complain about
how I complain too much, you better get over it or get out of
here because <cue music> "I feel like bitching tonight,
like bitching tonight." (Bitching and chicken exchange
very well here.)
Like I've said before, I hesitate to write too much about waiting
tables and the comical mini-dramas that can occur because I
don't know how much I plan to include in the new Completed Thought
I'm writing, and I hate to be too redundant. Still, if I must
repeat myself for the sake of a well-rounded essay later, then
I must. I really must get to writing it, but I need a good four
hours of solid writing time without distraction, and I haven't
even had two yet.
I've had a series of bizarre characters in the last few days
of which I had to take note. Well, some were bizarre, some just
stupid. I had one table yesterday of two total geniuses <lather
former statement with rich, creamy sarcasm>. The couple sat
down and already appeared to be horribly put off by the fact
that they would have to speak to someone other than each other
to receive food and drink. When I approached them, it was as
if they were terrified of me. Terrified or completely annoyed
that I couldn't bring them what they needed when they needed
through the power of ESP. The man skimmed over our list of beers
and asked, "What other beers do you have on draft other
than the ones listed here?"
"Oh, you mean
our secret drafts? Aaahh, indeed. If you tap your menu
three times with your salt shaker, the list of beers for our
magic folk shall appear. Were you looking for...say...butterbeer?"
Actually, I responded, "No, those listed are all we carry."
His idiot sidekick then timidly muttered (as though she's making
a long shot request), "Do you have Sex on the Beach here?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Our full bar doesn't carry peach
schnapps, cranberry, orange juice, or vodka."
But I actually responded, "Yes, absolutely, it'll be right
out!"
When they were getting ready to leave after sitting there over
an hour (her stupid Sex on the Beach sitting sipless), the man
shouted out, "Check please!" Now, I'm aware that I'm
feeling particularly sensitive for having been here so long,
but I'm sorry - does this look like a diner in 1956? Seriously,
who says that like that? People say, "We're all set,"
"Could we have the check?" "We're ready for the
check," "I think we're all good, you can bring the
check." Any of these works just fine. What's up with the
secret beer guy and his moron girlfriend who wasn't sure if
we have vodka?
Then there are just the brief, random occurrences that sometimes
make me laugh, sometimes make me want to fucking strangle people.
When a costumer asked me where the bathrooms were, she called
me "Honey-buns." (I have to say, I couldn't help but
laugh, and I do like when woman call strangers pet names.) Then
there was the guy that was bitter that we carded at the door
and feeling defeated and frustrated requested a sprite through
clenched teeth. This is the same guy that kept asking for more
parmesan cheese no matter what I brought out to him. Would it
have killed the mother fucker to ask for extra cheese rather
than continuously having me run into the chicken for a goddamn
ramekin of shredded cheese?
Then there were the two kind women who sat at my table for over
two hours sipping their Stellas and picking at their congealed
nachos. Their bill (when they FINALLY asked for it) came to
$32.88. They put in $40. I was stupid to not ask if they needed
change, so I ended up giving them their $7 back. After sitting
there for another 15 minutes, I watched the woman PULL OUT the
two one-dollar bills. Fucking bitches. 20% would be $6. $7 if
you round up to the 50 cents, but these goddamn table hoggers
make a conscious decision to REMOVE TWO DOLLARS because God
forbid they pay me my 20%, especially after sitting at my damn
table twice as long as everyone else. (Tipping rules will be
included in the Completed Thought if you too are a bad tipper
and don't know it.)
Tonight was the richest. Here I am with two large parties, neither
of which understand the concept of getting rounds. This means
having a round of drinks where everyone orders, then everyone
receives. No, instead, I take everyone's drink order for another
round and I see this one bitch just near the end of her Blue
Moon. She's just near the backwash level, so I ask her if she
wants another Blue Moon. "No, I'm okay for now." So,
I put in the order, get all the beers, carry the tray over to
their very far away table, and when I arrive, maybe 2 minutes
later..."Can I have another Blue Moon?" The bitch
does this to me every single time and since this was my seventh
day working in a row, I wasn't feeling too goddamn patient.
"Are you SURE you're not ready for another Blue Moon now?"
Such a bad waitress tonight, but I don't give a fuck. She's
a bad costumer.
The table beside it was driving me up a wall too for the same
reasons. Then I would stand there, looking at them all after
I got the orders for a few drinks for some of them, and I would
ask if anyone else needed a drink. After making eye contact
with every one of them, I would begin to run away to put in
their order when some mother fucker would decide at THAT moment,
he too would like a drink. So, though I stood there hovering
for a whole minute, as SOON as I would leave the table, "EXCUSE
ME!!??? Um...I would like another Tangueray and tonic?"
Did you not see my standing there asking? Every damn time.
I'm sorry, I know that you're out having a good time, I know
you want what you want when you want it and it's my job to be
okay with that, but seriously people? Fucking think a little
bit. Just try. You don't have to be an asshole, and if you're
just plain stupid, please stay home where no one else has to
know you exist.
Service jobs really remind you how many disappointing people
there are out there.
I'm going away for the weekend. I'll write when I get back!!
Have a good weekend, hope to see you.
...........................................HAPPY BIRTHDAY to
the one who holds my heart............................................... |
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