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Long day. I was
at work for 13 hours today. Made what I make for half that time
on a Friday night. I'm pretty tired. I'm working a double tomorrow
too. I wouldn't mind at all if we knew that people would be
showing up and we'd be making money. Problem is with a new restaurant
- they don't know what to predict, so I may work for 13 hours
tomorrow, and I may walk out of there with only three hours
worth of work. Wouldn't be so bad if we could sit down at some
point.
Today was...comical. I didn't hate life, which is an improvement
considering how horrible I've been this past week. I got the
table from hell. 6 adults, two brand new babies - Eastern European.
Don't mean to stereotype, but nearly all (if not all) Euro's
of very poor English-speaking skills come from countries where
tipping is not quite the standard as in the United States. Basically,
if you get a table of Euro's who haven't learned our ways quite
yet, rest assured that you will NOT be making any money on this
one. This group floods in ready to be the biggest pain in my
ass. From the moment they arrive, each and every one of them
wants something different and all at different times. I don't
mean in the normal way. I mean, they ask for cappuccinos (nightmare
to make), and when you finally bring the tall order of beverages
to the table, they are annoyed that I didn't assume they would
want coffee as well. I bring them coffee, bring them cream and
sugar, but they each want little saucers of milk, not cream.
I mean, this is fine. It's not unreasonable, but I have a full
section, they are not my only table, and they do not just order
everything they need. They wait to tell me what else they need
after I leave to get them whatever they last asked for. I'll
be standing there, "What else can I get for everyone here?"
"I'd like water."
I look around, and repeat, "Water, okay. Anything else
I can get anyone?" I look around. I am completely ignored.
This is tricky because you don't want to stop everyone's conversation,
interrupt the whole table - I mean, you're already standing
there hovering. So, after no one says anything, I run to grab
the water, go to drop it, and then take off to assist my other
customers. However, as I drop the water, "I'd like an orange
juice," a person at the table says. Wanting to get this
table done and content, I repeat, "Umm...orange juice.
Kay. Anyone else here need anything?" Ignored. I'm not
whispering, I assure you that my presence is known. I get the
juice. I return, "I need more milk." Okay, at this
point, you think, "Fuck you. I'm sick of this."
But that was just the beginning. One woman wants to order from
the menu. She decides on the Grilled Vegetable Platter. "It's
not just greens, right?" I tell her a few vegetables that
are on it, and she nods and pushes the menu back at me. Finally,
time to check my other tables. I go around, helping other people,
but before I even leave the vicinity of that table, they are
waving at me frantically to come back. "What can I help
you with?"
"Um...I ordered the grilled vegetables??"
she says pointing to her empty plate and tapping at her watch.
"Yes, I ordered them for you. They have to grill
them, but as soon as they are grilled, they will be brought
out to you." My tone was light and fluffy, but anyone who
knows me well would know how I was intending to sound. The vegetables
finally are brought out by the food runner, and I go to the
table to check if everything is okay. She is climbing out of
her seat with the plate of veggies in her hand, shaking her
head, saying that this is not right. "No, I ordered the
vegetable platter."
"This is the vegetable
platter."
"No, I don't know what this is,
I...I don't know what this is. The menu said it would be marinated
and grilled, and this is...I wanted vegetables. This has salt
on it, I don't want this."
"Okay, these are
vegetables, and they have been marinated and grilled. Is there
something else I can do? Would you like to order something else?"
"NO, NO, I want vegetables! I don't KNOW what this
is!"
"Okay, well, those are peppers, tomatoes..."
"I don't know what that is," she says pointing
to the portabello mushroom and the eggplant. "I'm Mediterranean,
and I don't consider that a vegetable. I want something that
looks like vegetables. I thought it would be leafy like a salad."
I'm so confused. "Well, would you like a salad instead
then? We have many different kinds of sa..."
"No,
I don't WANT a salad. I just want the grilled vegetable platter.
Please, I'm so hungry and everyone else is eating, and I'm on
a diet, please!"
"Okay, so you don't want
the mushrooms or eggplant. Would you like just more of the peppers
and tomatoes then?"
"NO, I just want vegetables!
I don't know what that is!"
"Okay, you don't
have to have that. Why don't you tell me what kinds of vegetables
you would like, and we can grill them for you with no salt."
"I don't know, just vegetables."
"How
about I get you more zucchini, peppers, and tomatoes?"
"I just don't understand. I am hungry, and this is
not the grilled vegetable platter. Please, can you get my the
grilled vegetable platter??"
I walk away reassuring her that she'll get what she wants, and
I make eye contact with the other waitresses who were watching.
We all burst into laughter. I tell the kitchen. They cook up
the most ridiculous platter of vegetables - all very obvious
vegetables that are not at all what the menu says for this plate.
It's just every very vegetably vegetables we can think of, hardly
grilled, no salt.
As I'm in the kitchen getting the plate, the hostess comes in
to tell me that they table needs more water. They can't even
wait for me to return directly to their table to order more
water. They have the HOSTESS GO AND TELL ME!!!
She gets the fucking vegetables. The woman is finally happy.
They are ready to go. I tack on gratuity to the bill because
I know they would leave nothing, so I feel fine. They take a
long time with the bill, passing it around, staring at it and
discussing it. They call me over. The bill comes to $125.26.
They have a $50 bill and a credit card. "Put $70 on the
credit card, and the $50 is for the rest."
"Um...okay,
but you would still owe me $5.26, so would you like to me to
just charge $75.26 to the card?"
"What?"
I explain it again in clearer terms. "With the credit card
being $70 and the $50 in cash, it only ads up to $120. You owe
me five dollars and twenty-six cents more than that. I can just
charge that to the card, if you like." They look around
at each other.
"Can we see the bill again?"
"Um...sure, it's right here," I say handing them
the bill that clearly states that they owe $125.26. They start
talking, I stand there and wait.
"Can you give
us a few minutes?" the man asks me.
"Uh..yeah,
okay." I walk away. I see them discussing it, confused
as ever. They stare at the bill, they talk it over for 10 minutes.
They wave me back. I open up the booklet, and they have added
a five-dollar bill. I laugh and walk away. I tell the story
to the manager. "Just let the 26 cents go," she says.
"BUT IT'S THE PRINCIPLE!!! What the hell is wrong
with them? Why didn't they understand that they owe me $125.26?
It has nothing to do with language barriers. It's numbers, it's
math! These numbers add up the same wherever they came from!!!
I just don't understant!"
"Just let it go,"
my manager repeats with a smile.
I just don't understand some people. It was a funny day. Long
and exhausting, but sort of funny. |
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