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Today, I will share some stories with you from the Pit of Despair. I swear, every idiot was out in full force yesterday night. It was utterly painful to watch in most cases. So where to begin? Oh wait, I will start at the beginning of my shift with the usual Cranky Old Woman. However, not to repeat myself, I must distinguish this model of the Cranky Old Woman as Smartass Cranky Old Woman. (SA, for short.)
Why oh Why Must You Sit at a Dirty Table?!?!
Me: self-explanatory, the stupid person who keeps putting up with sucky people
SA: Smartass Old Woman, Model 4.0
Just a note before beginning: Every table was open and clean -except one in the entire restaurant. For the record.
Me: Hi, how are you today?
SA: Fine. I want a booth.
Me: *points to table 21* Let’s go right around the corner.
SA: *points* I want a booth.
Me: Yes, there’s one around the corner.
SA: *points more furiously* I want one over here! *Gives me an angry old lady pout. She thinks it’s going to work, but I don’t want to put up with her crap.*
Me: *sighs* Okay, how about right over here.
SA: *mumbles* That’s right, if I WANTED a BOOTH over there, I wouldn’t be pointing, would I?
Me: *rolls eyes*
I walk to a table, which is clean and nicely set up for two people. It’s a nice window booth, which I thought would help SA relieve some of her agitation. Sometimes if the person doesn’t get a booth where they originally wanted or whatever, I will gloss it over with “oh, but hey – you get a window seat!” And then, as dumb as some of our customers are, they will smile and reply, “Oh gee, how great!” and be polite the rest of their stay. Not so, in this case. I put the menus down and look up…and lo and behold, Smartass Cranky Old Woman is standing and pointing at a table only two feet from the one I'm standing at. The only dirty table in the entire restaurant. I want to bang my head against the nearest wall.
SA: I WANT THIS TABLE!!!
Me: (this is from across the restaurant) Ma’am, that table is dirty. I want to seat you at a clean table.
SA: I WANT THIS TABLE! YOU CAN CLEAN IT, CAN’T YOU?
Me: *sighs, notes some of the regulars are looking at me like “can’t you get this crazy old bat to shut the hell up?!”* What’s wrong with this one?
SA: *louder than before* CAN’T YOU CLEAN THIS ONE FOR ME? I MEAN, THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!
Me: *rolls eyes, grabs set of silverware off of table 8 and heads toward pissy SA, who is now sitting at table 6*
SA: You going to wipe the TABLE?
Me: You sat yourself at a dirty table, ma’am. I tried to give you a clean one, really.
SA: You know, missy, the customer is always right. *stares intently at the menu*
Me: I was trying to give you a clean table so you wouldn’t have to wait. I figured you would appreciate the favor.
At that point, I walked away from SA and refused to serve her. Nobody has the right to harass me, especially when I was trying to help. My attempt to help her started out innocently enough…but then I would have loved to kick her in the shins. I swear, the Resturant has the worst clientele ever. Everybody sucks; I promise it is NO exaggeration.
A Very, Very Specific Shake Order
Co-worker: Table 6 would like an Oreo shake, EXTRA super, super thick with no whipped cream and no kids’ straw.
Me: Wow, that’s oddly specific. Where the heck do they think they’re at?
Co-worker: I don’t know, but they were adamant about the way the shake is supposed to be. It’s for a three year old kid. I kept thinking, “how the hell is this kid going to notice if the shake is thick or not?”
Me: True enough.
So I went to the back and made the EXTRA thick Oreo milkshake for the kid…only to discover that these people had become dissatisfied with the speed by which we were operating and decided to get up and leave. After they had eaten their appetizers and drank their first set of shakes. Needless to say, my co-worker was livid. While I had been finishing the shake, their food had come up. Said co-worker had gone to their table with the first plates of food…to discover the people missing. Apparently, they wanted the royal treatment or something…
Idiots. They missed the part where we were completely SWAMPED. There were six big parties (7 people or more) at once. Of course the cooks can’t work fast enough to get everybody’s orders done at once. Again, this incident is filed with the others who expect magical and instantanious service from us when we are swamped. Plus…keep in mind that this is the RESTURANT, not a four star place.
8th Grade Girls Gone Wild…With Their Parents Watching
Monday night went from being boring to being so busy that I didn’t get off until an hour and a half after my shift was supposed to be over. It was in part because the middle schools in town were having their 8th grade “graduation” ceremony. In true the Resturant fashion, we attracted the least classy 8th graders and parents possible. My least favorite group of the night has to be the bratty group of twelve 13 year olds on table 2. Here’s why:
I’m running around pretty frantically because we are packed. Out of nowhere, cue the stupid eighth grade girl: CAN I HAVE A KIDS MENU?!?!? (she shouted this in my general direction, while I was running drinks across the restaurant to another table)
Me: NO, YOU HAVE TO ASK NICELY FIRST! (mentally adding: IDIOT!)
Bratty girl: *starts whispering to her stupid posse of fellow SC children*
Best part? These kids’ parents were sitting only a couple of tables away, completely ignoring their crappy behavior. This is seconded only by the tip they left on their $47 check: $2. Wow, I am proud of their inability to figure out a 10% tip. They are going to continue the fine tradition of idiots who leave dollar bills as a tip for their $50 check. Oh, wait. There’s more to this story. While the parents were finishing their dinner, two of the bratty girls decided to lie down on the benches in the waiting area. With their feet on the windows. They were effectively flashing everyone who decided to enter the restaurant. I bet the creepy old men who love to come in got an eyeful. :0
cue:
Why oh Why Must You Sit at a Dirty Table?!?!
Me: self-explanatory, the stupid person who keeps putting up with sucky people
SA: Smartass Old Woman, Model 4.0
Just a note before beginning: Every table was open and clean -except one in the entire restaurant. For the record.
Me: Hi, how are you today?
SA: Fine. I want a booth.
Me: *points to table 21* Let’s go right around the corner.
SA: *points* I want a booth.
Me: Yes, there’s one around the corner.
SA: *points more furiously* I want one over here! *Gives me an angry old lady pout. She thinks it’s going to work, but I don’t want to put up with her crap.*
Me: *sighs* Okay, how about right over here.
SA: *mumbles* That’s right, if I WANTED a BOOTH over there, I wouldn’t be pointing, would I?
Me: *rolls eyes*
I walk to a table, which is clean and nicely set up for two people. It’s a nice window booth, which I thought would help SA relieve some of her agitation. Sometimes if the person doesn’t get a booth where they originally wanted or whatever, I will gloss it over with “oh, but hey – you get a window seat!” And then, as dumb as some of our customers are, they will smile and reply, “Oh gee, how great!” and be polite the rest of their stay. Not so, in this case. I put the menus down and look up…and lo and behold, Smartass Cranky Old Woman is standing and pointing at a table only two feet from the one I'm standing at. The only dirty table in the entire restaurant. I want to bang my head against the nearest wall.
SA: I WANT THIS TABLE!!!
Me: (this is from across the restaurant) Ma’am, that table is dirty. I want to seat you at a clean table.
SA: I WANT THIS TABLE! YOU CAN CLEAN IT, CAN’T YOU?
Me: *sighs, notes some of the regulars are looking at me like “can’t you get this crazy old bat to shut the hell up?!”* What’s wrong with this one?
SA: *louder than before* CAN’T YOU CLEAN THIS ONE FOR ME? I MEAN, THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!
Me: *rolls eyes, grabs set of silverware off of table 8 and heads toward pissy SA, who is now sitting at table 6*
SA: You going to wipe the TABLE?
Me: You sat yourself at a dirty table, ma’am. I tried to give you a clean one, really.
SA: You know, missy, the customer is always right. *stares intently at the menu*
Me: I was trying to give you a clean table so you wouldn’t have to wait. I figured you would appreciate the favor.
At that point, I walked away from SA and refused to serve her. Nobody has the right to harass me, especially when I was trying to help. My attempt to help her started out innocently enough…but then I would have loved to kick her in the shins. I swear, the Resturant has the worst clientele ever. Everybody sucks; I promise it is NO exaggeration.
A Very, Very Specific Shake Order
Co-worker: Table 6 would like an Oreo shake, EXTRA super, super thick with no whipped cream and no kids’ straw.
Me: Wow, that’s oddly specific. Where the heck do they think they’re at?
Co-worker: I don’t know, but they were adamant about the way the shake is supposed to be. It’s for a three year old kid. I kept thinking, “how the hell is this kid going to notice if the shake is thick or not?”
Me: True enough.
So I went to the back and made the EXTRA thick Oreo milkshake for the kid…only to discover that these people had become dissatisfied with the speed by which we were operating and decided to get up and leave. After they had eaten their appetizers and drank their first set of shakes. Needless to say, my co-worker was livid. While I had been finishing the shake, their food had come up. Said co-worker had gone to their table with the first plates of food…to discover the people missing. Apparently, they wanted the royal treatment or something…
Idiots. They missed the part where we were completely SWAMPED. There were six big parties (7 people or more) at once. Of course the cooks can’t work fast enough to get everybody’s orders done at once. Again, this incident is filed with the others who expect magical and instantanious service from us when we are swamped. Plus…keep in mind that this is the RESTURANT, not a four star place.
8th Grade Girls Gone Wild…With Their Parents Watching
Monday night went from being boring to being so busy that I didn’t get off until an hour and a half after my shift was supposed to be over. It was in part because the middle schools in town were having their 8th grade “graduation” ceremony. In true the Resturant fashion, we attracted the least classy 8th graders and parents possible. My least favorite group of the night has to be the bratty group of twelve 13 year olds on table 2. Here’s why:
I’m running around pretty frantically because we are packed. Out of nowhere, cue the stupid eighth grade girl: CAN I HAVE A KIDS MENU?!?!? (she shouted this in my general direction, while I was running drinks across the restaurant to another table)
Me: NO, YOU HAVE TO ASK NICELY FIRST! (mentally adding: IDIOT!)
Bratty girl: *starts whispering to her stupid posse of fellow SC children*
Best part? These kids’ parents were sitting only a couple of tables away, completely ignoring their crappy behavior. This is seconded only by the tip they left on their $47 check: $2. Wow, I am proud of their inability to figure out a 10% tip. They are going to continue the fine tradition of idiots who leave dollar bills as a tip for their $50 check. Oh, wait. There’s more to this story. While the parents were finishing their dinner, two of the bratty girls decided to lie down on the benches in the waiting area. With their feet on the windows. They were effectively flashing everyone who decided to enter the restaurant. I bet the creepy old men who love to come in got an eyeful. :0
cue:
Grow up, kid.
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