The Waitress

If You Complain About Your Food, Please Prove The Problem To Me, Fuckwads

I had a table tonight that seemed nice enough when they first came in. It was a woman, her brother, their mother, and (I assume) the woman’s young daughter. Like I said, they were nice enough. They ordered their drinks and the woman ordered a salad. I took their drinks to them, put their order in, made the salad, and ran it to them. They were polite and thanked me. They even made an April Fools joke, so I thought, “They might be pretty nice.” I had no idea what was coming next.

When their food came up, I ran it to them. Now usually, if there’s a problem with the food, the table will flag you down right away. No, she waited until I had run their meals to them to complain about the salad.

“There was a hair in my salad.”

I looked at the salad. I saw no hair whatsoever, so I asked point-blank, “Where is it?”

“Oh, I just plucked it out and threw it on the floor.”

I knew she was fucking lying. If I found a suspicious object in my food, I’d leave it there so I could prove to the server that it was in fact there. In an attempt to figure out whose it could have been (but deep down knowing that it most likely wasn’t there in the first place), I asked, “What color was it?” Mind you, I was smiling and being very polite. I was just trying to get the bottom of this. She pointed toward my head and said, “Dark brown.”

Faux pas number one. My hair isn’t dark brown. It’s LIGHT brown, and you can definitely tell a difference. I apologized and told her I wouldn’t charge her for the salad.

A couple of minutes later, I go back to check on them and they say everything’s very good. I apologize once again for the supposed hair in the salad and they say it’s OK, things happen.

I go back a while later to check on them again. Mind you, the older woman had already taken a couple of bites of her meal when I checked the first time. All of the sudden, on this second check,  the chicken was undercooked. No, it actually wasn’t. She had ordered dark meat, and dark meat will not be completely white because it’s NOT WHITE MEAT. Nevertheless, I apologized and I offered to take it back. She said, “NO, I’m DONE.” I then said, “Well, may I at least take it back so I can show it to the manager?” Once again, I was being as polite and as friendly as I could be. She sort of scoffed and said, “Well, OK.” I took it back and the manager, A, said to call the owners because he’d hate to have me do something (like giving an unauthorized discount or comp the meal) that could get us in trouble. I called them and explained things and they told me to go ahead and comp it, so I did. I told them that and they thanked me. I apologized once again for the chicken. At this point, she mentioned that the mashed potatoes were cold – something she didn’t mention for the whole two minutes I stood at the table discussing the chicken with her.

They were just about finished and had some leftovers boxed up, so I took them their bill. Even with the comped chicken and salad, it was still about $45.00. My tip? $4.00.

My thought is that they were just another one of those tables who order a lot of food and at some point during the meal, realize it’s going to cost them more than they can really afford, so they make up some stupid complaints to get things for free. Granted, the lady didn’t eat much of the chicken meal, but still, it’s DARK meat, it will NOT be WHITE even when fully COOKED. Go to KFC and see if you get any different – you won’t. And the four dollar tip, even after I was polite and apologetic about everything was just a slap in the face. I took good care of them and I guess they fail to realize that a problem with the food is not necessarily the server’s fault.

Ah well. That’s not the worst table I’ve ever had, and I guess I should be grateful that I even got a tip at all.

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Socially Awkward Penguin Is Now A Socially Awkward Waitress

Yes, that’s right – I am a waitress, but I’m very socially awkward. I’ve always been a keep-to-myself type of person, so being a waitress seems like an ironic job for me. If you’ve ever seen the Internet meme “Socially Awkward Penguin” – well, I can relate to just about every picture. I got bored and made a few memes last night. This was one of those memes, because you have no idea how many times this has happened to me.

Socially Awkward Penguin At Closing Time

This has been me many times at work.


Sniffling, Coughing, Sneezing, Drinking

I got home from work about an hour ago and decided to crack a beer instead of having that tea I mentioned earlier. I got suckered into working tomorrow even though I’m sick and really wanted (and probably needed) the day off. OK, I didn’t really get suckered into it – the one who asked me to work part of her shift for her had something else to do and I could use the money anyway, despite the fact that my head feels like a water balloon and I had to refrain from sneezing snot all over each and every table tonight. A few tables gave me a weird look – you know, that look that says, “Why is this sick bitch handling my food?” I did them a courtesy though and didn’t sneeze in front of them, and I also tried not to cough. I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible. I also washed my hands until they were almost raw and probably went through a gallon of hand-sanitizer in just one shift. It went OK though – I got some decent tips tonight (my tip percentage based on my sales was roughly around 20%). Then again, a lot of them were probably pity tips. Maybe it’ll work again tomorrow. That is, if I don’t get sent home early for being sick. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times, and besides, I have to work with Boss Man and Boss Lady tomorrow all day as opposed to A, and Boss Man is the one who usually sends the sick people home. I’ve only left early once for being sick, and that’s only because I was puking and absolutely could not make it through the whole day.

That’s all for now. Nothing too interesting tonight, really. Same shit, different day. (As if it’s ever really much different.)


What Good Is A Blog If You Never Update It?

I’ve been severely slacking on posting lately. I haven’t posted anything since….damn, I don’t know when.

I have a terrible cold today (and I’m sure my lunch of Beanie Weenees and a couple of leftover hot wings from my night at the bar last night won’t help my health). It’s a bitch that it got bad too, since I have to work tonight and I can’t afford to call off. With the cold, all I can really do is wash my hands a lot at work, use roughly a gallon of hand sanitizer in one shift, refrain sniffling, coughing, or sneezing in front of customers, and pray that my voice doesn’t give away that I’m sick.

Speaking of work, I am looking for a second job. Circumstances here in a couple of months will basically demand for me to get a second job to keep my head above water. I barely do it with a roommate and the one job I have right now. With my roommate leaving, I definitely have to find a second source of income. Waiting tables just isn’t going to cut it – even if it would, it would be cutting it very, very close, without a penny to spare. I am also looking at getting a new roommate, even if I get a second job – it sure as hell would make it a lot easier on me for sure.

I turned 21 earlier this month. I just got my permit a few days later – yes, I am 21 and this is the first time I’ve had my driving permit. So far, I’m not doing too badly with it, and I really enjoy driving. I used to be scared of it, which is one of the reasons I haven’t had my permit until now. The first time I drove I was very nervous, but a few weeks later, I’m getting much better at it (or so I hope).

Obviously with turning 21 comes a lot of drinking. I’m enjoying being able to go to a bar and have a drink or just buy some beer and go home with it to drink. I still have yet to buy my own bottle of liquor though. Then again, I generally don’t drink much liquor anyway.

The job is still shitty. I have quite a story for a post later, but I think I should let it sit for a while. It doesn’t have to do with a customer, it has to do with someone in the workplace, and I’m not risking my job over this shit. Actually, I have a few stories that pertain to co-workers, all of which should come soon enough, goodness willing I’m able to motivate myself to write in here more. I just don’t want to tell them right now because they all deserve posts of their own and I don’t want the stories to be too new when I post them. I like the anonymity thing I have going on with this blog and I don’t want to risk that.

Anyway, I should get up off my bum and get ready for work, seeing as how I have to be there in an hour and a half. I just got up from a nap that I was hoping would refresh me a bit. It kind-of-sort-of did. Hopefully I’ll make some good money tonight, seeing as how my wallet’s getting pretty strapped at the moment. I think what I need to do tonight after work though is come home, drink some tea, chill out, and try to kick this cold.


I haven’t updated in a while….

Saturday damn near killed me. Two idiots at work who will remain anonymous booked a party of twenty and a party of fourteen….a half hour apart from one another. That was just FUCKED UP. As anyone who works in a restaurant would know, if you book a party, it’s going to be busy.

And damn, it was.

It didn’t help matters that we had the owners down there helping us out since it was so busy and Boss Man usually makes things worse. Boss Lady actually helps out, but for my party of twenty, three steaks went back undercooked. Who cooked them? Not A, the one who usually does our evening steaks, but Boss Man. He left three steaks that were supposed to be well done on for roughly five minutes (this is what A told me) and said they were well done. STEAK IS NOT A FUCKING HAMBURGER. Well done takes longer than five fucking minutes. Overall, it was one of those nights where you just want to kill everyone in the restaurant then walk out, very calm and quiet.

On another note, I turn 21 on the 5th. I’m pretty pumped about that – but I’ll write another post later in the week devoted to that whole subject.


Why Are People So Cheap?

On that note, why does it seem like the busy nights are when all the cheapsters come out? They can drop fifty bucks on a meal, no problem – but they leave you a $2.00 tip. A whole two dollars! Wow! Now I can get those gumballs I’ve been wanting!

And why are college kids so rude? They look at me like I’m scum because they know I’m their age, and they’re in college – here I am, a lowly waitress. They can’t say thank you, they can’t smile – sometimes you want to grab them, pin them up against the wall by their neck, and say, “DIDN’T YOUR MAMA TEACH YOU MANNERS?!?!” Let’s just never mind the fact that I, the lowly waitress, probably have more common sense than most of them put together. (Maybe more overall intelligence too.)

I was back in the front tonight, obviously. We were busy – not slammed, but busy enough. Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d get slammed so I could make some cash. I guess I didn’t do too badly.

Oh, Z got the ax today. (You can only make so many lame excuses for calling off and/or being late before Boss Man gets sick of it, I suppose.) We hired a new dish washer, so I guess I have to come up with an initial for him. He’s P’s dad and is awesome at his job. He’s actually being trained on both the dishes and the line. He’s worked at restaurants for the majority of his life so he was awesome – kept up with the dishes, everything. He was great, and he’s a lot of fun to talk to. I could see where P got her coolness from when I got to talking to him.

Nothing really out of the ordinary tonight – same old douchebags, same old job.


Dish Bitch Part One And A Half

I just got home from work. You know how I said I didn’t really mind doing dishes at work if need be? I think I’ve changed my mind.

FUCK THE HOOD VENTS! FUCK THEM RIGHT IN THE EAR!

Anyone who works in the restaurant business probably knows what I’m talking about – for those of you who don’t, hood vents go up above the grill and fryers and help to get rid of steam, smoke, etc. You get the idea. They get rather gunky with all that grease, and every so often, they have to be cleaned. I work at a place where we don’t have cleaning crews who come in nor do we have maintenance people who do it. The dish washer gets stuck scrubbing them. Guess who got stuck scrubbing them tonight.

Yep. Me.

Granted it’s really not all that bad, and since it was a slow night I had the time to get them done. They did need to be cleaned. Had it been a busy night, I guess I’d be ten times more pissed about it. It didn’t really put me behind or anything, but still, it’s nasty work. My arms were covered up to my elbows in grease from those things. (That gives a whole new meaning to “elbow grease.”) I honestly have to say that it did tire me out. I could really go for a beer right now, but alas, I have none on hand, so I guess my Sprite Zero has to do. I also have those “dish hands” – you know, hands that look like prunes. Besides, it was A’s idea to do them (and like I said, it did need done). He apologized for sticking me with them, which is way more than the boss man would have done.

At least my hands are really, really clean now.