Man: “I really like your widow’s peak.”
Me: “Thanks, I get that from a lot of guys for some reason.”
Man: “How did you know that I’m gay? Is it that obvious?”
Apparently, the not-so-obviously gay guy thought I had said “I get that from a lot of gays.” The entire table loudly laughed for several minutes – they were very drunk.
BTW I do get the same compliment from a lot of gays too.
Waiting tables in Las Vegas differs from waiting tables in other cities. One of the main differences I’ve noticed is the amount of vomit a server in Las Vegas encounters. Servers in other locations might wait tables for years (or even forever) without witnessing a guest vomit directly on a table – this simply is not the case with a Las Vegas server. Dealing with mother fuckers who are too drunk to be in public, much less eat in a restaurant, is part of the job. Depending on where you work it might even be a major part of your job. For instance, if you work in a night club or a sports bar then you probably encounter vomit every single shift. Luckily, I only encounter it weekly. Last night I encountered A LOT of it.
Two drunk women teeter in and are sat at a booth. Both women were slurring their speech but the server eventually managed to get their order and rang it in. The food arrived shortly afterward and they began to eat. At this point, Drunk lady #1 proceeds to projectile vomit directly on the table. It’s important to note that this wasn’t just normal drunk vomit. Normal drunk vomit has a certain smell and texture – pleasant by no means but much more tolerable than the substance spewing from this lady’s pie hole. Normal drunk vomit consists mostly of the last 12 drinks consumed by the offending party – made up mostly of liquid, with a few indistinguishable chunks, and a pretty sour smell. Don’t get me wrong – I am not an actual vomit expert nor do I have a vomit fetish (like a guy I once saw on Jerry Springer) but I have witnessed enough drunks vomiting to know enough to gross you out in great detail.
The point of giving you some insight into normal drunk vomit is to illustrate the fact that this lady’s vomit was in no way resembling the substance normally expelled from the stomach of a normal drunk. This was ungodly. UNHOLY. Jesus, this was by far the worst substance I have ever witnessed another human being expel from ANY orifice. It resembled Hormel chili mixed with cat food – and she wasn’t eating either. The texture indicated that this lady had a bad habit of swallowing every morsel of food she ever consumed whole – without so much as an attempt to chew it. Not only did she neglect to chew it, she must have eaten an entire case of Hormel chili and 17 boxes of cat food. I have NEVER witnessed such a large quantity of vomit in a single place. In ancient Rome this lady would be a mother fucking legend for sure. The vomit covered half of the table, drunk lady #2’s purse, and a large portion of the floor underneath the table.
The awesomeness of this story begins now. While drunk lady #1 throws up everything she has eaten in the last 3 months, drunk lady #2 continues to eat without batting a lash. She then flags a busser down to tell her that her friend “is feeling ill.” When the busser looks down, she almost vomits as well. Drunk lady #1 then looks up and calmly says “I think I need a towel.”
(Really… you think you need a towel? That’s a real thing that you think you need? You need a towel? You actually need a shower mother fucker and to go to your hotel room and hide your head in shame. I would probably even switch hotels so no one recognizes me while I’m playing penny slots later.)
It was like neither of these ladies thought vomiting directly on a table, in a restaurant, was a big deal. They also didn’t seem disturbed by the sheer quantity of the vomit or the strange wholeness of the items within it. In fact, the lady who had just vomited began eating again almost immediately afterward – without even cleaning any of the offensive, foul-smelling, chili-like substance off the table. I’m sure the energy used by her muscles from gagging, as well as the fact that her stomach was now empty, increased her appetite immensely but for fuck’s sake – Are you fucking kidding me? Drunk lady #2 didn’t even pause from stuffing her face WHILE her disgusting friend threw up ON the table and her purse.
It was like something out of a horror movie.
Normally, when someone vomits in a public place their friend asks for the check and everyone leaves immediately. These gross bitches didn’t take this an indication that it was time for them to leave. In fact, they were offended when my manager presented them with the check and told them they had to leave. They argued saying that they weren’t done eating. My manager insisted they leave because the hazmat team had arrived (donning gloves, masks, and sanitizer) to clean the ungodly substance up. Eventually, the gross bitches gave up and left. Then two people (who get paid to clean vomit up all day long) proceeded to clean and disinfect the area for over an hour.
A really obese couple came in and hobbled to my station. The woman (in her 40s) ordered a shirley temple (sprite with grenadine). Within 2 minutes she downed her entire drink and began making slurping noises with her straw before waving her glass in the air. I brought her a refill and she continued drinking quickly. A few minutes later I went to get another refill – after she interrupted me while I was taking another table’s order to request one. The bartender thought adding more grenadine would make her slow down so he added twice the normal amount of grenadine.
Unfortunately, the additional sugar did not deter the obese woman and in 5 more minutes she needed another refill. This time we added even more grenadine – thinking there was no way it was even drinkable this time. By this time, the couple’s food had arrived and they had begun eating. She finished her drink shortly after her food arrived and requested another drink. The bartender filled the glass over halfway with grenadine and topped it off with sprite. I fully expected her to complain but she didn’t. She drank the entire drink in two swallows and requested the check. Her and her obese husband paid their bill, stiffed me, and wobbled away.
For the record, she had 5 drinks in 22 minutes. We used almost half a bottle of grenadine.
I hope she enjoys her diabetes.
Tonight a homeless man came in to eat. His hair was matted to his head and he smelled like a mixture of asshole, cigarettes, malt liquor, and skin that had been baking in the sun for 14 years. He also had a tan that most Californians (& the cast of Jersey Shore) would pay a shit ton of money for. He seemed like a nice enough guy but my manager still notified security so they could come and harass him. The homeless man only ordered onion rings and a milk shake but my manager still felt confident that he couldn’t possibly have the money to pay for it.
When security arrived they began asking the homeless guy if he had money, where he had just come from, where he was headed etc. The homeless guy took out a wad of ones that would rival that of a stripper – and I mean a HOT stripper, not some fat stripper with back boobs and a bad weave. Once security finished asking the man questions, they stood at the hostess stand, staring at him while he ate. He paid his check, stiffed the server (of course), and was promptly escorted off of the property by security.
I felt bad for him until I found out that during his meal random guests had stopped by to give him cash. He made $6 while sitting at his table for 20 minutes. That’s a decent living – especially for someone who doesn’t have to pay rent.
A party of six annoying drunk asian-americans came in tonight. They insisted they were ready to order immediately but made me stand at their table for 10 minutes while they figured out what they wanted. One girl was especially high maintenance, demanding, and rude. Her order contained 5 different special instructions and she needed 3 different kinds of sauces. When Picky Bitch’s food arrived she also needed extra of each of the three sauces and requested one new one.
After the table was done eating, I offered them dessert. They declined and I told them I would get their check. Picky Bitch replied “You mean checks right? We obviously need separate checks.” I told her that I wasn’t aware of their need for separate checks so it would take a few minutes to get them separated by the cashier. Since I had several new tables I asked a co-worker to collect the payment for each of the checks after I dropped them off. Four people paid in cash and the remaining two paid with credit cards (including Picky Bitch). My co-worker brought everyone their change and one guy his credit card receipt. Picky Bitch’s card was denied. When the other server told her, Picky Bitch replied “No, you did it wrong. Put in the zip code.” The server told Picky Bitch that there wasn’t a place to put the zip code and there was no way she ran the card incorrectly.
Picky Bitch then comes up to me and says “The other server said this card is denied and you need to put the zip code in to get it to go through.” I told her that our credit card system is not like the one she uses at a gas station and it doesn’t require or even have a place to input the zip code. I also told her that it doesn’t tell us why her card is denied and that she would need to call her credit card company directly and ask them – for instance, it could be flagged for security reasons if she has money on it. Picky Bitch insisted she had money on her card. While she argued with me, the remaining members of her party just left her- with no way to pay her check (which of course was awesome and well-deserved).
After a couple of minutes of arguing with me, Picky Bitch decides to call her credit card company. It takes her 10 minutes of being on hold before someone answers. I’m not sure what they said but when she hung up she was pissed and did not tell me to try her card again. She then called one of her friends to come back and give her some cash. He handed me $20 (the bill was $19.45) and told me to keep the change and left.
I really hope Picky Bitch enjoys the rest of her Vegas vacation but it seems pretty unlikely since she has no money. There’s hope though since she was wearing a dress the size of dental floss – I’m sure some desperate bastard will pay her way in exchange for sex.
Two rednecks come in wearing standard redneck attire: Budweiser hats, old blue jeans, and nascar shirts. They both ordered burgers cooked medium. Since they were obviously from a shithole of a town somewhere in the south, I took the time to explain to them that burgers prepared medium would be pink.
Redneck fucktard 1: Medium is fine as long as it aint pink.
Me: That’s what I just explained… it will in fact be pink.
Redneck fucktard 1: I want it cooked cooked.
Me: So you want it well done?
Redneck fucktard 1: Hell no, I don’t want it well done. I just want it cooked all the way.
Me: Well done will be cooked until there is no pink.
Redneck fucktard 1: You just cook it medium and make sure there is no pink.
At this point I just give up and decide to ring his burger in well done and be done with it.
I look over to his friend/cousin/lover and he replies “Hell fuck no, I don’t want no fuckin pink in my burger. That shit’ll kill you faster than sleeping with men.”
Tonight was a slow night so when I got sat a party of 8 I was excited to have something to do for 5 minutes. When I went to the table I offered them water and began filling their water glasses. A couple of them wanted sodas so I rang them in and went to the bar to get them. Right after I filled up the glasses with ice I see the party get up to leave. I motion to them letting them know that I see them and that it’s OK. The father walks up to me and says “My wife wants to eat somewhere else. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” I assure him that it’s fine. He apologized again and hands me $20.
One of my biggest pet peeves is when a guest fails to alert me of a problem with their order before they eat everything. It’s not like I’m the type of server who doesn’t check back and provide them with ample time to voice their complaints prior to finishing their meal entirely.
I check back on my guests several times. The first time I check back is when their food arrives to make sure they don’t need any additional condiments and to make sure their food arrived correctly. Then I check back again after everyone has tried at least two bites of their food to make sure their food tastes good and is properly cooked. Besides these two times I walk past them several times checking for signs of dissatisfaction and refilling beverages as needed. Like I said: I give people ample time to make their complaints known prior to the consumption of their entire meal. That’s why it never ceases to amaze me the number of people who eat every fucking morsel of their food and then complain that something was missing, cooked incorrectly, or tasted horrible.
In most cases there isn’t a hell of a lot I can do to rectify the situation since I have no way to prove their claim. I deal with so many fucktards who have so many retarded complaints in a day that it becomes difficult to determine who is a lying twat seeking a free meal and who has an actual legitimate complaint.
Don’t Like The Food?
If you hate the food why the fuck would you eat all of it and then say “That was the grossest meal I’ve ever had.” What kind of fucking person does that? Sorry, big boy… you ate the entire fucking meal there is nothing I can do for you. You should have complained immediately and I would have replaced your meal with something else. If you are in a time crunch then you could have just eaten a small amount and I probably wouldn’t have made you pay for it. You didn’t though. Instead you ate the entire fucking meal, licked the plate, and then passive-aggressively complained like a little bitch. If it was good enough for you to shovel down your throat in 2 minutes then it’s good enough for you pay for.
Improper Cooking Temperatures
Why would you eat your entire burger and then tell me that it was improperly cooked when you could have just as easily have told me during one of the many times I checked on you. Chances are your burger was properly prepared and you are just a fucktard who doesn’t know proper cooking temperatures. Either way, If you let me know before you devour the entire burger I can do something about it – like have it cooked to your liking or even take the time to explain cooking temperatures to you so you avoid the problem in the future. If you wait until you eat the entire thing I really no longer give a fuck about your complaint. Inevitably you end your complaint by telling me “make sure the chef knows,” or “pass this along to the chef.” Something you should know is that most servers will just ignore your complaint and not relay the message to the chef because there is no way to tell if it’s legitimate or not. This is because guests often tell us their burgers are improperly cooked when in fact they are perfected cooked. These people are just used to eating at chain restaurants that serve their shit well done and call it medium well. These chain restaurants won’t even serve their meat with the slightest amount of pink in it because the quality of the beef is poor and the people preparing it probably don’t have a degree in culinary arts.
Something Is Missing?
The kitchen screws up on tiny things all day long. It’s a fast paced job and it’s easy to overlook small items, like extra avocado or a side of ranch. If this happens then you should let your server know that something is missing as soon as you notice. It will only take 90 seconds to fix the problem in most cases. My absolute favorite is when cheese is missing from a sandwich. The reason it’s my favorite is because so many people are too fucking retarded to correctly identify cheese. I hate when people wait until the end of their meal to tell me there is no cheese because most of the time there was in fact cheese and I missed an opportunity to point it out to them. Here is a classic example:
Four asians order four burgers, one with blue cheese. The lady eats several bites of her burger before flagging me down to tell me there is no cheese on her burger. There is in fact cheese on her burger and I can see it without even asking her to lift the bun.
Me: There is cheese. It’s right there.
Lady: right where?
Me: Right there. That white stuff hanging off the side.
Lady: I no see.
Me: (I take her fork and poke it) Right there.
Lady: That cheese?
Me: Yes, that’s cheese.
Lady: (Lifts her bun to see the entire patty covered in the mysterious white substance) Hmmmmmm. That blue cheese?
Me: Yes.
Lady: I thought it something else.
The above conversation happens 95% of the time when someone says there is no cheese on their burger. I know it seems strange because cheese is something that should be obvious – especially blue cheese since it has such a strong taste. The truth is people just lose all common sense when dining out and turn into fucking retards.
A party of four older black men were sat in Curly Sue’s section tonight. When he arrives at the table he notices the four men have pushed their water glasses into the middle of the table. He starts to offer them water but is quickly interrupted by one of the men. He loudly complains that their glasses are filthy and requests new ones. Curly Sue looks at the glasses and sees a few tiny water spots and replies “Sure, I’ll get you some new glasses. All of the glasses have water spots though so it’ll take about 30 minutes or so.” The man countered Curly Sue’s wiseass remark with “Why don’t you just make it 2 hours?” Curly Sues agreed to do so and walked into the back to get some clean glasses. When he returned he saw the man standing at the hostess stand, obviously waiting for a manager. When the manager arrives, the man requests to be moved to a new section, with a new server. The rest of the table’s meal was pretty uneventful. The manager bought some of the table’s food and the men spite tipped their new server $20 on $80.
Later on while I was walking through Curly Sue’s section I overheard the following conversation:
Guest: I don’t think we have time to wait for our food
Curly Sue: Well, you thought you had time 5 minutes ago when you ordered it
Guest: We have tickets to the show
Curly Sue: You had tickets to the show 5 minutes ago, when you ordered your food, also
A single 20-something year old black guy came in to eat. He was reasonably attractive, well-groomed, and wearing loud & expensive hip hop attire from head to toe. After ordering his food he requested his check immediately. Mr. Hip Hop was in a hurry because he was headed to work. When I asked him if he worked close by he snottily replied “No…I own a recording studio.” After hearing this I bet my co-workers that I would get completely stiffed.
After Mr. Hip Hop gulped down his food he emptied the contents of his pocket onto the table and began counting his change to pay his $20 tab. He paid with 5 $1 bills, 7 $1 coins, and the remainder in change (mostly nickels). Not surprisingly, I was stiffed completely.
If you see Mr. Hip Hop can you please pass along the following message:
* You “owning a recording studio” does not impress me – especially since your idea of a recording studio and mine seem to differ vastly. Recording on tapes in your mom’s garage is in fact not a recording studio, even if you and your friends think it is.
* I suppose when you sell your CDs on the street at stoplights you refer to that as “owning a record company.” Guess what fucktard – It isn’t the same.
* If you want to look like a real baller, cash your change in at one of the many convenient CoinStar locations throughout the valley and then stiff your waitress after paying with real money. This will make you look more gangster and less poor.
* I may not “own a recording studio” and only be a waitress but I have NEVER had to pay my check in change – NOT EVEN IN HIGH SCHOOL.
* I found your bus schedule on the table after you left. I hope you enjoyed your bus ride to your “recording studio,” baller.