On December 2 the Rocky Mountain News ran a feature article concerning server and diner complaints regarding each other.

The Diner POV
The Server POV

My favorite diner complaint "I don't like waiters touching my napkin when I go to the restroom." How does the person know that their server has touched their napkin?

After I'd read the article, there was an older gentleman sitting alone in my section. He'd left the table to use the restroom...and I walked over, placed his bill on the table and touched his napkin. He hadn't used it (that I could tell) and I just kinda poked it, but for the rest of the night I felt as if I'd done something wonderfully subversive and gotten away with it.

Amusing moment from tonight: Table 10
Two horribly annoying women "reserved" a table in my section then sat at the bar to wait for their friend. My manager wouldn't let me give away their booth, even though they weren't sitting at it nor were they ordering anything at the bar. Effectively losing seats in my section and another servers section. But you know, we aren't there to make money or anything. Eventually their friend made it in and they all sat at Table 10.
The Nice One listened while I told her the choices that came with the sandwiches and ordered without incident.
The Bitchy One made me repeat everything I'd told the nice one, asked if I could make a Guac Burger with a chicken breast instead of a burger, rolled her eyes when i told her we actually already had that on the menu and I'd be more than happy to get it for her and ordered breakfast instead.
The Crazy One asked if we had avocados. I told her that we did. She asked if I could give her a whole one. I told her I could. Then she asked, "What would you expect me to do with a whole avocado?" I told her I wasn't quite sure, but I guessed she would eat it. She looked at me like I was crazy for saying such a thing...then she said nothing at all. I asked her if she'd like another minute with the menu and she said, "No. I was just waiting for you to take my order." I was starting to loose my patience...just a little and I replied, "I'm sorry, I can't take your order if you don't tell me what you'd like. It's been a long week and all of my psychic abilitlies are drained." I laughed when I said it and her friends laughed with me. She just stared. Then she ordered a chicken sandwich with avocado slices. Not wanting to repeat the sandwich sides a third time, I asked, "Did you want to do the fries with that?" And she asked, "What else can I get instead?" "Mashed potatoes, baked potato, cottage cheese, fresh fruit or a cup of soup." (An amended list, but covering all the basics.)

She looked me right in the eye and said, "Is your fresh fruit from a can?"
I was stunned into silence.

"No, ma'am. Our fresh fruit is. Fresh. Fruit."

When I was back in the servers line I laughed maniacally for about five minutes.
It was that funny to me.


Table 66 (not my table, but story told w/permission)

Table 66 ordered hot tea (six bags), a carafe of water, a bowl of lemons and two cups with ice so that they could make thier own iced tea. A normal order of hot tea comes with two tea bags. Their server asked a manager how she should charge for this and the manager said, charge them for three hot teas. Table 66 then ordered two Ribeye and Eggs, well done steaks and over lite (super runny) eggs...and they asked for the cooks to cut their steaks for them. Let me repeat that one for you. Two healthy, grown people asked for the cooks, on a busy Sunday morning, to cut their steaks for them. They were both able to see, neither had casts on their hands.
Their server told them, "I don't think we can do that for you, but I'll check with the cooks." She rolled her eyes when they couldn't see her anymore...and told the manager what they'd just asked her...because she wanted to share the funniness. And the manager said, "Okay, I'll get the cooks to do it."
When their food came out, Table 66 complained that their steaks were over-cooked and that their eggs were too runny. When they got to the register, they complained that they were charged for three hot teas when they'd only ordered one. A different manager was up there than the manager who'd said to charge Table 66 for three teas, so she took off two off the hot teas and gave them a discount for their steaks being too tough and their eggs too runny.
Then they complained that their server had been "nothing but unhelpful. She didn't get us anything we asked her for. It was like we had to serve ourselves." I guess making up stuff about their server made them feel better for not tipping her.

I was so happy they hadn't been my table.

Today is also the one year anniversary of my bitching about being a waitress. Happy Birthday little blog!! :-)


ma vie sur le patio

Table 73

A couple in their late 40's decided to have their lunch on the patio. I was their server. And This Is Their Story. We'll call them Jack and Diane since I didn't have a chance to catch their real names. They sat down and ordered their drinks and food without incident. While not overly friendly, they were pleasant enough.

Then Jack lit a cigarette. I informed him that we don't allow smoking on the patio and asked him if he'd please put it out. He asked, "Why can't I smoke out here? The smoke's not getting inside." I explained that our patio is too close to the front door and that makes it illegal to allow smoking on the patio. He took another drag of his cigarette and said, "Well, that's bullshit." I told him that, yes, it is kind of a bullshit law, but it IS THE LAW and if he continued to smoke on the patio I would have to talk to a manager and the manager would have to take action. I also told him he was welcome to hop the fence and smoke on the other side, where he'd still be able to talk to Diane. He glared at me and put his cigarette out, grinding it into the cement.

I brought their food and checked on them. They ate every last bite of everything. After I left their check on Table 74 I went to another table to take their order. Jack got up quickly leaving the check on the table. I was worried he was still angry and was going to dine-and-dash* but as I was taking an order I couldn't follow right away. When I got back into the restaurant, they were standing at the register talking with the manager. I walked up in time to hear Jack tell the manager that his food had been so horrible he couldn't eat it and his server (me) had never come back to check on him. I tried to talk to the manager at this point, but the manager decided to ignore me and instead just give Jack his meal for free and a discount on Diane's meal. And of course, like all people who get a free meal, they didn't tip.

After they'd left I told the manager that that had been the "smoking guy" and he'd eaten all of his food, as well as told me it was good when I had checked on them. The managers only response, "Oh well. Guess he pulled the wool over my eyes."

Table 71

Let me preface this story by telling you EXACTLY what we tell every table that asks to be sat on the patio. "You're more than welcome to sit on the patio...BUT. There are sometimes bees out there. Would you still like to sit on the patio?" It's much easier than every other table having to come back inside because a bee flew by their table.

After I greet the two young women at Table 71, and before I even have a chance to get their drink order, one of them asks me, "So, are you guys just trying to make sure no one sits out here? Because the girl up front told us there were bees and I don't see any bees." (It's very hard to convey the amount of attitude in this question over the internet..if you'd like to call me, I can say it like she did for ya...and you can feel the snarkiness for yourself) We'd just changed the traps or I'd have pointed out the 5,000 dead bees hanging in green canisters all around. Instead, I explained that we do have a bee problem, it's not horrible, but some people have a phobia or are allergic and it's easier to tell them about it first. They had a few margaritas and everything was fine.

As I was walking back inside (from taking Jack and Diane's order :-P) the girl who hadn't asked the question about the bees stopped me. "Um, miss. I just wanted to let you know, she (points at her friend) just got stung by a bee." I asked if they needed anything and the stung girl said she'd be fine...and they were. Normally, we don't give people free stuff if they're stung by a bee (as we have no control over the bees, and people are nearly always warned first) but I gave them a free margarita each.

Now, these girls were actually very nice about it all. Great customers, aside from the opening bit of snarkiness...but I just had to share this because I found it so beautifully ironic that a girl that thought we were trying to scare people from sitting outside with imaginary bees was then stung by a bee.

*dine-and-dash (a.k.a. chew and screw) - ducking out of a restaurant before paying for your meal


Today I walked up to Table 2 and asked the woman sitting there if she was ready to order or needed a few more minutes. She said, while looking at our Mexican food page, "I could be ready if I could find your burritos on here." I pointed out the section in the middle of the page that has a heading in a 42 point font which reads "BURRITOS & A WRAP". Then she looked up at me, like I was stupid and said, "Honey, I just a want a burrito, I don't need a burrito and a wrap." I explained that it said "& A WRAP" because we have seven burritos and A wrap...

The other day I asked a table, "Do you guys need any Tabasco or Cholula?" to which the brains of the operation replied, "No...but do you think we can get some of that red hot sauce?"

I get this one All The Time. "Can I get you folks something to drink? Water, coffee, iced tea?" "No, we don't need anything to drink. Just water." Water IS a drink people!!

"Can I have cold iced tea?" I still don't know which other restaurants serve hot iced tea...but people seem to like that ours is cold.

On our menu we have a Bowl of Oatmeal, Cream of Wheat or Grits listed. Right beneath the listing it reads, Served Mon-Fri 6 am to 11 am; Sat & Sun 6 am to 1 pm. At least twice a week, someone asks for oatmeal after 5 pm...more often than not pointing to item on the menu and then is shocked when I tell them we don't serve it after 11 am during the week.

Think that's enough for now? No? Okay, one more.

A while back a young man was sitting alone at Table 3 and ordered a red chili burger. I asked how he wanted it cooked and if he wanted fries with his burger. He told me well done and yes, he'd like fries.
When I brought his burger he looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong order. I ordered a chili burger."
"Yes, sir. This is our burger with chili on it, which we generally call the chili burger."
"No, in your menu it says that it's a bowl of chili with a burger, cheese and onions."
(What it actually says is "Smothered in red chili with American and diced onions. Served with a side of red chili, too." I'd also like to point out it's listed in the middle of the BURGER section of the menu...with all the other BURGERS.)
I ended up taking it back to the cooks and asking them to just put the patty in a bowl of chili and he was happy.
Still, it was one of the oddest misunderstandings I've ever had to deal with.
Table 64

Sunday mornings are always fun at the restaurant. Servers are running their asses off, cooks are slinging food into the window as fast as they can, hosts are seating tables faster than the bussers can clean them, we have a 45 minute wait...and customers wonder why it's taking more than four minutes for their well done steaks to come up. It's awesome...but this table wasn't quite one of "those tables".

I went to Table 64 to say hello and get their drink order. The Mom orders a screwdriver, Grandma gets a coffee, and the little girls order chocolate milk. I asked The Dad what he wanted and he said, "I need you to make me a Bloody Mary, but not with that crap mix you use. That stuff's disgusting. I need you to make it from scratch." "Okay sir, I can have our bartender make you one without the mix. Do you like it spicy?" "Yeah, I like it just the way you guys make the mix but you can't use the mix." "...Okay. I'll be right back." "Miss, I just want to make sure you heard me. Don't use the mix." "Yes. Sir. I did hear you and I'll have someone make that for you right away." So, I get another server to make it (since my manager who is supposed to be helping bartend is watching college football and too busy with that to help me) and I told her to make it like we do the mix, but don't use the mix. She looked at me like I was crazy...then with sympathy realizing I just had a crazy table.

I bring out the drinks, he *looks* at his Bloody Mary and says, "You used the mix didn't you?" "No sir, I didn't. I had our bartender make it for you from scratch. Would you like to go ahead and taste it and then you can tell me if you need something added to it?" He sips and says, "It tastes like you used the mix." "Sir, I assure you, we did not use the mix. Because you asked for it just like we make the mix, I can see how it would taste similar, but it was made from scratch. Did you want me to have them make you another one?" He didn't look at me or make eye contact. His wife said, "It'll be okay. If it's not we'll just go get another from the bar." I took their order for food and walked away.

I came back once before their food was ready to get them refills. The little girls both needed more milk. I explained that the milk didn't have free refills but I'd get them more if it was okay with The Mom and The Dad. The Mom said that was fine.

I brought out their food and everything but the syrup for one of the little girls pancakes. After I put down the food I asked, "Does anyone need anything else? Tabasco, Cholula...I'll get syrup for the pancakes, but anything else right now? *pause* Okay, I'll be..." "Excuse me." "Yes, sir?" "Did you just interrupt me?" "I'm sorry?" "I was going to ask you something and you started talking right over me." "I hadn't realized I was talking over you, I'm sorry. What can I get for you?" "Do you know that I know the owners of this restaurant?" "Um. No, I didn't know that. Is there something else you need right now?" The Mom interrupts, "Will you please stop being so rude and interrupting every single time my husband tries to say something? We're trying to have a nice family breakfast and you're being nothing but rude at every turn!" I didn't even respond. Then The Dad said, "I don't see how the owners let such a snobby bitch like you wait tables on a Sunday morning when families are trying to have breakfast. I'm going to tell the owners about your rude service." I turned and walked away.

Before they left, I made a copy of their receipt, circled my name, wrote down the owners schedule at our restaurant and the number to our downtown restaurant and told him to make sure to tell the owner about our crappy Bloody Mary mix too.

They were walking past me to leave while I was putting in an order and I heard The Mom say, "On top of everything that little bitch charged us for the girls drinks when they're supposed to come with the meal."

They didn't leave me a tip, but the GM said that she talked to the owner while they were finishing breakfast and it was agreed that for calling me a bitch, The Dad would be 86'd from both restaurants. The Owner said he'll tell him when he calls to complain. The Dad hadn't realized that I know the owners, too.


Table 7

They seemed entirely unremarkable. A young woman, a young man and a small baby in a carrier. The baby slept in the carrier in the booth all through their dinner. The young woman ordered a you-choose-two Mexican combo plate...and ordered a third item that was listed underneath the regularly included choices in a section that says, "These choices available for an extra $ .55 cents". Knowing this has caused confusion in the past, I told her, "I'm happy to get that for you, but I just want to make sure you understand, that will be considered a you-choose-three with an extra .55 cent charge." For just one second, she looked irritated. "Yes, I read about the extra .55 cents. That's what I'd like." And she smiled. I figured we were at an understanding. I placed their order, brought out their appetizer, checked on them and got them refills, brought out their dinners, checked on them, offered refills, checked and did my little dessert tempting thing. I was at their table often enough, if I'd sat down I could've been having dinner with them. Everytime I had checked on them, they'd said the food was "perfect".

Then I dropped off their check.

I'm near the register, about half way across the restaurant from Table 7, and the young woman starts waving the check in the air and shouting, "MISS, COME HERE" which woke her baby, who started to wail at the top of its lungs. After a minute of pretending to be busy at the register (I had to give her time to take in all the dirty looks the near-by tables were giving her) I went to Table 7 and asked if there was a problem. "There most definitely is. I ordered a you-choose-two and you charged me for a you-choose-three. PLUS .55 cents." I looked at her for just a second, trying to will her to remember the conversation we'd had 30 minutes ago concerning this very topic. "Yes, ma'am. As I'd explained when you ordered, by getting the mini steak fajita burrito as well as your other options, you were ordering a you-choose-three, since you did get three items, one of which has an additional .55 cent charge." "Well, it wasn't even good." She pointed to her nearly empty plate then to her husband, "He had to finish it for me...*pause*...and the calamari was like rubber...*pause*...and I'm sure the margarita was watered down." "I'm sorry, if you'd told me any of this while you were eating, I'd've been happy to fix it for you. Since there's nothing *I* can do for I'll be happy to get the manager to come over and we'll see if there's anything that he can do for you."

I started to walk away, and she said, "No, I don't want to talk to your manager. I'll just pay for your mistake and never eat here again." She smiled smugly, her husband shook his head and the baby who'd been quietly crying for about five minutes started to wail again.

I told my manager about the exchange and asked that he take their check and try to calm her down. (I really don't need someone leaving angry and e-mailing the owners of the restaurant with exaggerated complaints, which has been happening quite often lately...though not directed at me, yet)

He listened to her complain how her food had been terrible and asked her, "Did you tell your server that you weren't enjoying your food?" "No." "Well, I'm sorry, she could've brought you something else but now that you're done the most we can do is take off 10%." "If you really were sorry, you'd just take it off entirely, but I guess if there's *nothing* else you can do, I'll take it."
And he did give her 10% off.

After she paid she walked back to Table 7 and put two shiny quarters down.
Luckily for me, while she was trying to get free food, her husband slipped me $8 and a piece of paper that said, "Sorry. It's the baby." Which, while sad, is still no excuse for such rudeness.


Tables 52 & 53

Here's another classic that I never got around to putting up...

There was a party of 8 that came in around lunchtime on a Sunday afternoon, one of the restaurants busiest times of the week, and expected to be sat immediately. People who'd been waiting patiently, and had had their names on the list before our party of eight, were called and sat. And after every table that was sat, the Matron would come up to the hostess and ask why they weren't getting a table ready for them yet. It was repeatedly explained, that they had to wait. When, finally, their name was called they were sat in two booths, since there were no table to put together at the moment. The Matron complained that the booth was uncomfortable and she was "sinking" into it (which was most likely caused by her gigantically fat ass) but when asked if they'd rather continue waiting for a table, they declined. Which meant I was stuck with them.

The party was made up of six kids (ranging from about two years old to about 15) and two adults. The Matron ordered waters for all of the kids and a Coke for her and water for her...husband? Not one of the kids looked remotely like either of them. Before ordering, The Matron asked if the kids meals came with a free drink (like it says on the menu) I told her they did...and then she let the kids have milk. I told her I could do kids meals for the little kids but the older kids, if getting a kids meal had to purchase a full priced drink. (It's the restaurants policy) Then she told me, none of her kids were over 11.
I have to say, that's the first time I've met a 5'7 eleven year old wearing a JV soccer jersey.
I wasn't about to sit around arguing with I went ahead and put five of the kids down for kids meals. There was a little blonde girl (about six?) sitting at the parents table who ordered a dozen buffalo wings and onion rings appetizer. Each of the parents ordered steak and eggs.

Remember now, it's Sunday brunch time. Five minutes after I put in their order, the Matron came up to the front of the restaurant and said Very Loudly, "Those kids are so hungry back there, they're eating jellies. How much longer are you going to make us wait for our food?!?" I told her that it was a busy time of day and it was going to take some time. There were other orders ahead of theirs, but as soon as it was ready I would bring it out. That just pissed her off. It seems her order should be cooked before anyone elses, no matter how long and patiently others had been waiting. A manager talked to her and said, exactly what I did...which while not calming her much, did get her to go back to her table. Though once she was back, she yelled at the kids (four of which were sitting at a different booth with no adult) across the booths, threw creamer at them and yelled, "Shut your mouths." "Can't you be quiet?". I had to have a manager come back and ask her to stop yelling and throwing things at her children.

After I'd brought out their food, the Matron complained that her husbands eggs were too dry. After he'd eaten them, and I'd already checked on them once and no one had mentioned it. I talked to the manager, and he said, "Just get him some new eggs". So I did. When I brought them, she complained that her steak was overcooked and she couldn't eat it...there were about four bites left from the 10 oz. Ribeye I'd brought her. Again, I talked to my manager, this time he said, "Hell no, we're not making her a new steak. Give her this $2 off coupon for next time." I explained to her, since she'd already eaten most of her steak there was nothing I could do for her (which totally contradicted the whole egg situation) other than giving her the coupon. I brought boxes for the little girl with the wings and onion rings and gave them their check.

The Matron asked why I hadn't discounted the little girls buffalo wings. I stopped because I had no answer and didn't want to just ask, "Why would I?" which gave her time to tell me, "She's a little girl you can't charge her full price. She didn't even eat all of it." I told her that she'd ordered off of the adult menu, the price clearly stated next to the item ordered and they were taking the left-overs home. There was no reason for a discount. Then she asked why I'd charged them for a kids drink if the kids got free drinks with their meals. I explained to her that a free drink for kids comes with a "kids meal" not any meal a kid orders. Since the little girl had ordered off of the regular menu, I had to charge her for her drink. (Plus, since these people were horribly rude I was going to charge them for everything I could) She took it upon herself to talk to the manager about the ticket. They backed me up and didn't take off the kids drink or discount buffalo wings.
Then the Matron asked I could split the tickets so each adult had three kids on their ticket.
I did.
When I dropped off the new checks, as I walked away, The Matron told her husband, "There menu says 'gratuity may be added to parties of five or more' and hell if I'm going to have them add a gratuity."

They took up two tables for almost two hours, complained about everything, had me running getting refills for the kids and the parents, bothering nearby customers (some of whom even moved to other tables to get away) and they left me a $1.50 tip.
This is an old one...before the days when I had a blog to vent.

Table 7 (or somewhere over there by the windows; like I said, it's an old story)

A young couple in their early 20's were having a late breakfast. The girl ordered a vegetarian burrito with vegetarian green chili. The young man then ordered,*
"I'd like the two egg breakfast."
"How'd you like your eggs?"
"Homefries and toast, french toast, pancakes or biscuits and gravy?"
"Does your gravy have pork in it?"
"Yes, sir. It does have sausage in it."
*makes face* "Pancakes."
"Okay, would you like any meat with that?"
"What kind of meat?"
"Bacon, ham, sausage links or patties."
"Do you have anything that isn't pork?"
"We do, we also have..."
"Because I don't eat pork."
"Okay...well you could have...."
"I'd rather not go to hell."
"Well sir, you don't have to eat anything with pork in I was trying to say, we do have other meats."
"I'm muslim. I believe seriously that if you eat pork you will go to hell. Do you eat pork?"
"Yes sir, but I'm not muslim."
"That doesn't matter you're going to hell in my eyes."
"I'll take that to mean you'd rather not do meat with your eggs?"

His pancakes were grilled on the same grill as other peoples sausage and bacon...I wonder if by not telling him this I damned him to an enternity of hellfire?

I sure hope so.

*I've tried to recreate the conversation as faithfully as possible, but a word or two may be off.


Table 43

I deliver a young couple their food. After I put it down and ask if they need anything else, the guy asks if he can see my wrist (I have a tattoo it wasn't all that weird) and I hold it out to him so he can take a better look. He asks the standard questions about font and where I got it done that I get from everyone. Then he says, "That is by far the sweetest fucking tattoo I've seen in a long time. Simple, but awesome." I tell him thanks and tell them both to enjoy their meal and I'll be back to check on them in a little while.

As I'm walking away I can hear the girl saying, "I can't believe you were flirting with her in front of me...and how is her tattoo better than mine? I have way better tattoos than her..." She kept saying stuff, but I was out of earshot, so I missed the rest.

I came back after a few minutes to check in on them, the guy wouldn't look at me or answer when I asked if everything was okay and if they needed anything else. The girl asked for more soda, though hers was more than halfway full. When I brought that, she asked for Tabasco. When I brought that she needed more napkins. When I brought those she'd dropped her fork on the floor and needed a new one. I had someone else take it to her and didn't go back to the table until they were both obviously done eating to take them their check. It came to $19.85 and the girl handed me a twenty and said, "Keep the change...for your next tattoo."

The guy had forgotten his sunglasses and ran back in a couple minutes after they'd left and gave me a ten and apologized for his girlfriend being a bitch. I thought it was hilarious.


Table 210

This story starts long before I started working a The Restaurant. Table 210 (who we'll call Hank, since that's his name) had been 86'd* before...for spitting on the floor. Yeah, why they let him back in I'll never know. He'd started coming in again about three months ago, he complained about every server in the restaurant, about the food, the prices, the management, etc. Then one day, he sat in my section and decided that I was the perfect server. From then on, he wouldn't sit in anyone elses section. He was actually upset when I took a week off. When I came back, he asked for an explantion to why I hadn't told him I'd be gone. (He's kinda crazy.)

Enough back story, lets jump to the fun stuff.

Last Saturday, Hank came in about 2:30 and sat at the bar. He ordered his usual; a beer, a rum and coke and some green chili. About 10 minutes into eating his chili, he flags me down.

"Look at this! There's a chunk of plastic in my chili! I was taking a bite and I bit into this...this plastic. It's a good thing I have my own teeth...because I was chewing on plastic!"

I look at what he's holding up to me and it's very distinctly an onion peel. Granted, it still shouldn't have been in his chili, but it's not plastic. So I say, "That looks like an onion peel to me. I'm sorry that was in there. Would you like me to get you a new bowl of chili?"

He looks at me as if I've asked, 'Would you like another bowl of warm vomit?'. "I don't even have an appetite anymore. I won't be able to eat all day. Can you blame me? There was plastic in my damn chili! Fucking Plastic! It's a good thing I have my own teeth. I was chewing on fucking plastic. I shouldn't have to pay for this."

"I'll take it off the bill, Hank. You won't pay for it."

"I shouldn't have to pay for it." "You won't, I'll take it off." "I should not have to pay for chili that has plastic in it. I've lost my appetite. Can you blame me? There was fucking plastic in my chili. Can you blame me for not wanting to eat? I lost my appetite for the whole day. I won't eat again. It's a good thing I have my own teeth. Fucking plastic in the god damn green chili!"

Did I mention that he was getting progressively louder during this madness and was nearly shouting when he said, "Fucking plastic in my god damn green chili!"?

I went over to explaing to my manager what was going on, showed her the "plastic" in question...which before I said a word about my theory on what the "plastic" really was said, "That's not plastic. That's an onion peel." While this was going on Hank found another manager and was complaining to him. Manager Two came over to Manager One and myself and related that Hank now wanted his drinks free as well. Manager One said, "Hell, no. He drank them, he can pay for them. Go take him the ticket." I asked Manager One if she'd rather deal with it since he was so which she replied, "You can handle it." Awesome.

I go over to Hank, who is now more upset after finding out he still has to pay for his drinks, and begins anew. "I should sue. This is no way to run a business. Charging people after they find Fucking Plastic in their green chili. If I didn't have my own teeth I could've died. I was fucking chewing on plastic. I should FUCKING SUE THIS RESTAURANT! I could. And could you blame me if I did? Could you blame me? I was chewing on plastic. It's a good thing I have my own teeth. I won't eat again all day. I'm so sick that I was chewing on FUCKING plastic that I've lost my appettite. Can you blame me? I mean, I was chewing on plastic. That SHIT, that...that, FUCKING PLASTIC was in my chili. I should go home and call my lawyer."
Manager One makes her way over, apparently the expletives being shouted across the restaurant were enough to distract her from her American Idol conversation.
"Hank, I'm going to have to ask you to lower your voice, pay for your check and leave. We've taken the chili off but you have to pay for the drinks. You drank them."
"This is no way to run a business. There was fucking plastic in my chili. I'm never coming back here again. I could sue you and could you blame me? I was chewing on fucking plastic."
"It wasn't plastic. It was an onion peel." Manager One walks away. Hank pays and right before he walks out the door, he turns and comes back.
He walks up to me, hands me a dollar and says, "I'm never coming in this fucking restaurant again. This is no way to run a business. I'll never come in here again. Never." He waits, I think waiting for me to be upset or something. But really I'm not upset at all...quite relived to hear this news actually, so I tell him, "Hank, I'm really sorry there was an onion peel in your chili but I'm not going to miss you." I did try to hand him back his dollar, but he didn't take it.

I really hope that was his last visit.

*86'd No longer allowed(in an area or premisis).


It's been awhile...lets jump right in.

Friday, Table 10

A party of four middle aged (45-ish) folks stopped by to have some dinner. First, I offered them drinks...they all ordered something different, but nothing terribly complicated (a bloody mary, a house margarita, an electric lemonade and a peach cooler) as I was walking away I overheard one of the guys say, "We should've made her write that down. You know she's going to fuck them all up." And right then, I knew this was only going to get better.

I made their drinks and got them back to them in a timely fashion and they weren't ready to order yet, so I wandered off and did some other fun waitressy stuff and when I get back to the dining room 80's Hair Guy (think Ted McGinley, Married with Children) from my table is talking to my manager/bartender who is making a new bloody mary for him. I walk over to the table when he gets back and ask if there'd been a problem. (I mean, obviously there had been but I like to know what the problem was and apologize properly if it was my fault or make sure the customer knows why it makes me feel better) 80's Hair says, "Yeah, in that bloody mary you made the celery was moldy and it was disgusting. But your manager took care of it for me." "O-kay. Sorry about that, I hadn't noticed mold but glad it's all taken care of now. Are you guys ready to order?"
They order and just to prove to them how very cool I am, I write nothing down. I walk away to make their salads and in the two minutes it takes for me to get back, 80's Hair is back at the bar talking to my manager. I drop off the salads and go check with the manager to see what his deal was this time. He said that when he told me about the moldy celery, I called him a liar and pointed out that he was going to have to pay for it anyway. I started to tell the manager that no such conversation had happened and he told me not to worry, he'd seen the celery, he knew the guy was full of it. So, we left it at that.

I bring out their food, everyone seems quite pleased. I'd made no mistakes and couldn't help but smirk at 80's Hair Guy. (I'd since decided he made the first rude comment, considering he'd been the only one starting any trouble.) I come back to check on them, for the second time, about 15 minutes into their meal to suggest dessert and clear plates...and 80's Hair Guy says, "Well, the steak is excellent. Really above par. Far more than I would've expected from this restaurant. But. Oh, nevermind. Wait. I really should tell you. But. No, don't worry about anything. It's all fine." Now, as curious as this is making me I have a new table and I really would just love it if he'd stop blabbering, "Sir, if something is wrong, tell me. I'll do my best to fix it, but I can't do anything if you don't say anything."

"I've picked six hairs out of my mashed potatoes. Everytime I took a bite there was another hair in my mouth. I threw them on the floor so I can't show them to you. Can you bring me new mashed potatoes?" And he hands me a plate with maybe three bites of potatoes left. I get him new potatoes and tell my manager about the six invisible hairs. My manager replied, "Fuck that weirdo. Don't give him no discounts. He's trying to get free shit. He better go to Wendy's and cut off his finger. *maniacal laughter*" Yeah, and the customer's the weirdo.

Anyway. After I dropped off their check, 80's Hair Guy comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, my meal's still on the ticket." "Yes, sir. I talked to my manager and since we replaced the food considering how much you'd already eaten, he felt a discount wasn't warranted. Have a great night."

After they'd left, the manager came over and said that 80's Hair Guy had threatened to call the Health Department for the moldy celery and the hair in his potatoes if his meal and drink weren't removed from the bill.


Table 44

I'm not sure how far these people had to walk from their trailer park to get to get to the restaurant, but I sure hope next time they make the trek they find somewhere else to stop and eat.

As soon as they sat down, all four of them (yes, including the 13 year old girl) lit up their Camel unfiltered cigarettes. They smoked while they ordered and while they ate. It was all really gross to me.

But let's start a little before the puff-puff-take a bite portion of the meal. I walk up to the table and ask if they'd like to start with something to drink. "Well, hell yeah little missy, I say we'd like some drinks." "Okay...what can I get for you?" "Drinks, isn't that what you said you were going to get us?" *all laugh* *I stand there waiting for someone to actually order something, no one does* "Okay, well, if you're not ready I'll just get you some water." and I start to walk away, because seriously, I have no patience. The lady says, "Ignore them. I'll have a coke" The 13-year old chain smoker says, "I'll have Mountain Dew." I tell her we don't have Mountain Dew and she starts crying. Crying, over no Mountain Dew. The Lady says, "Just bring her a Sprite. That'll be okay" The little girl lights another cigarette and wipes her eyes. The guy on the left says, "I wanna beer." I ask what kind of beer. "The only kind of beer there should be. A cold one." I tell him what we have on tap...and he says, "Honey, if it's cold that's all I care about. Bring this son-of-a-bitch one, too." (the son-of-a-bitch being the guy on the right).

I start to walk away to get their drinks and guy on the left says, "Hold on, Missy. Ain't cha gonna take our order? We ain't here for our health ya know. We want some food, dammit." I come back and take their order which is all the same thing, "We need four of them roast beefs on bread. With smashed taters and so much gravy if my head fell into the plate I'd drown. Ya got that? Enough gravy to drown me in." Seriously, that's exactly what he said.

I bring out the drinks and hand the ladies straws for their soft drinks. Guy on the Right says, "Hows about some straws for our beers? We ain't good enough for straws? hahaha" I don't laugh, instead, I just walk away...and as I do Guy on the Left says, "Too bad she ain't got no damn sense of humor. I hate them stuck-up Mexicans think they're smart 'cause they know English."

I just ignored him.

When I brough out their food, the Guy on the Right says to the 13 year old chainsmoker, "And you better eat every fuckin' bite of that too. Ya hear me, every last fuckin' bite."

I come back half-way through their meal to see if they're okay...and they're having a burping contest.

I come back to drop off their check...and the young girl isn't done eating...she's the only one. I offer to take their plates and the Guy on the Right says to the young girl, "Are you eatin' anymore?" She starts crying again, and says, "I can't." The Lady tells me, "Just leave the plate, she'll finish it." So, I walk away...and from the bar I watch as the guy gets food on a fork and tries to make the young girl eat it, dropping it on her clothes and smearing gravy all over her face. I asked my manager to go over there and talk to them, and all he said is, "It's family business. I'm just gonna stay out of it. Just don't look if it bothers you."

And I'm really sad to say, that's what I did. I ignored it...but I didn't know what to say to them, they scared me a little. Though, I should've taken a chance to tell them off...considering they left a fifty cent tip.


Table 11

Tonight was "Open-Mike Night". Which means people come in, hang out in the back room, sing and get drunk. It's a pretty good time. The whole point of my mentioning that is, the open-mic people were singing Secret Agent Man. Which is wonderfully fun song to sing. And I was singing it as I brought Table 11 their drinks.

I stopped singing, put their drinks down and was just opening my mouth to ask if they were ready to order when the girl said to me, "Whenever you're done singing I'd like a chocolate milkshake."

I really wanted to spit in her shake. Bitch.
Table 44

When I asked them what they wanted to drink, she replied, "Vater, vith ice. Lemon on ze side. Not. On ze rim. On. Ze. Side." Okay...
When I came back, I asked if they were ready to order and she said, "First I have question. You have turkey burger?" I replied, "No, but we do have a black-bean patty that you can substitute at no extra charge." "So, all you have iz meat?" "No, like I said, while we don't have a turkey burger, but we do have the vegetarian black-bean patty." " ' like you said' Tha'z not vat I asked. Get for me, the pork sandvich. He'll have chicken club. And two salads, a light dressing. On. The. Zide."
I bring the salads, with dressing on the side to the table and she says, "Vy, ven you are not busy does it take almost three minutes for just a salad? I'm practically starved."
When I bring out their food, she laughed. Literally, laughed. "Oh, such plate presentation. Colorado iz so quaint."

It took all of my strength not to hit that bitch. Maybe I was over-sensitive or something, but she really pissed me off.


I must have been very annoying in a past life...because I have the most annoying customers ever.

Table 41.

Two guys are eating, drinking iced tea and water...I'm kinda busy, so I'm not right there when they needed refills. I'm taking out food (Table 41 is by the window kinda) and the guys see me, with my hands full, and decide that's just the right time to YELL (though I'm about seven feet away) "EXCUSE ME, MISS?! MISS?!" *starts waving hands* "Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" "GET ME MORE TEA!" I hold the food up in his direction, "In a minute, I'll be right back." I drop off the food, pick up an iced tea pitcher and go over to Table 41. Yelling Guy says, "I was waving my hands trying to get your attention for ten minutes. I even whistled." I'd heard him whistle, and ignored it because I'm a waitress, not his fucking dog. "I'm sorry sir, I must have missed it while I was helping other customers. And just for future reference, when I'm standing right there, a simple 'excuse me' will work as well as shouting to get my attention." I started to walk away and his friend stops me by saying, "Stop." I turn and ask what I can do for him. In response, he holds up his water glass. I ask again, "Is there something I can do for you sir?" And he says nothing. Instead, he shakes his empty water glass. "Would you like some more water?" I finally ask. "Yeah." I wanted to tell him "When grown-ups want something they ask for it, they don't just point."...but I controlled myself for once.


Table 21
A young couple...very Abercrombie & Fitch, very cutesy, sit down and seem so nice. Then she asks for a new soda because the one I brought her is "too cold". I get her one with less ice. Then she wants a small cup with ice, because she likes a lot of ice in her soda. Yeah. Whatever. They both do the low-carb thing (no bread, cottage cheese instead of a potato) and then when I bring their food, he asks for a side of fries. When I bring those out she asks for a new soda because hers is "all watered down from all the ice". When I bring the soda, she asks if I could put her cottage cheese in a freezer until she's done with her burger because she likes her cottage cheese, "frosty cold". The beer cooler is close by, so I actually do it. Then she asks for new lettuce because hers is "all hot and yucky"...the hot tomato is okay though.

She was seriously obsessed with temperature. It was weird.

There were two more annoying tables I was going to share, but it seems I've worn myself out, yet again.

Until next time.


Okay, we have some catching up to do...

We'll start off with The Regulars.

These people come into the restaurant about twice a week. They're very friendly, tip well and almost always have a decently funny joke to share. The Wife has a relatively complicated order, lots of no this, no that, extra this, light that going on...and on occasion, it gets messed up. Either by the server or the cooks. This week, it was my fault. When I brought the fixed item to them and apologized for my mistake, The Husband said, "I'm sure it wasn't really your fault. Those damned cooks can't speak a word of English. You should tell them the next time they mess up you'll call immigration. That'll get them to pay a little more attention." I dropped off their check right then and never went back to the table.

Next, we have Elderly Black Ladies.

The first lady asked for sweet tea. I told her, "I'm sorry, we don't have sweet tea, just regular iced tea, would you like that?" to which she replied, "Ooohhhh, child. I'm going to have to look to find something to drink." The second lady asked for sweet tea. I told her again, that we don't have sweet tea and asked if she'd like something else instead, to which she replied, "Well, if you don't have sweet tea, then I don't want anything." I offered her water and she said, "Child, what part of 'I don't want anything' did you miss?". I ignored it, and asked the third lady what she'd like to drink...yeah, she ordered Sweet Tea. I repeated myself for the third time, she ordered a root beer and the first lady ended up ordering one as well. When I came back to take their order both needed refills on their sodas because they'd given the second lady half of each of theirs so she'd have something to drink...I filled both of their sodas and told the second lady that I was going to have to charge her if she was going to have a soda. She clucked her tongue at me and rolled her eyes, "Child, do you what you got to do." Then the first lady tried to order fried chicken, I told her we don't have fried chicken. She ended up ordering lamb chops. After I was done taking the other two orders (which took nearly ten minutes in total, between telling them we don't have rolls or corn bread, I can't have the cooks take the breading off the fish and chips, we don't have asparagus, we don't serve grits after 11 am...etc) the first lady said, "Now don't tell me you don't have mint jelly to go with my lamb chops. I'll walk right out that door." "No, actually, we don't have mint jelly. Would you like me to get your coat?" All three of them laughed so hard, which was good. Everything else went fine...until after they'd left. On the table where each had been sitting was one quarter. Yes, folks, a seventy-five cent tip. Huzzah.

I did have more for you, but that last one was way longer than I expected, so I'll stop there.

Happy New Year.