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?"
"Scrambled"
"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 it...like 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.
Saturday
Thursday
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 there...so 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.
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 there...so 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.
Saturday
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 upset...to 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).
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 upset...to 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).
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