Waiting In Vegas

Mom Jeans And All

September 3rd, 2010 No Comments

After years of waiting tables in Las Vegas it takes a lot to truly shock me. In fact it has been quite some time since I’ve witnessed something so outlandish and disruptive that it was automatically committed to memory. This is partly due to my many years of experience but mainly due to the fact that people visiting Las Vegas fall into two categories:

those who need to be the center of attention (or at least feel like they are)

and

those who don’t need to be the center of attention (they keep to themselves, entertain themselves, and have a good time without being disruptive and drawing attention to themselves).

With this being said, it is important to note that just because people do or say outlandish things doesn’t mean that these things are really shocking. Sometimes (most of the time) I see them as a mere ploy for attention. A child jumping up and down, while screaming “Look what I can do” is exactly the same as a drunk asking a sexually explicable question and then waiting for the gasps and high fives of his peers. I know the question is really less about my vagina and more about getting the group to acknowledge how clever, witty, or insanely hysterical he/she is. Sometimes people even do things not to be clever but instead in an attempt to simply make you feel uncomfortable.

Here is a recent example:

Two women and one guy come in and eat. All three are pretty average looking. They are in their mid-thirties. The two women are dressed like soccer moms, mom jeans and all. One has her hair down and flattened and the other one has her hair tied back and is wearing glasses. The man is dressed in khakis and has an abundance of nose and ear hair.

After they finish eating, they continue drinking heavily. The more they drink, the louder and hornier they get. The two girls start kissing on the guy – taking turns kissing him on the mouth and then the neck. All three begin massaging each other erotically.

When they are presented with the check, one of the girls replies: “We need to hurry up and pay this because we are going to suck his cock.” The only appropriate reply I could think of was “Have fun with that. I’ll take your check whenever you’re ready.”

WARN YOUR GUESTS!!!!

August 28th, 2010 4 Comments

I have previously touched on the subject of passive aggressive notes being left on the table after a guest leaves. Today Divine received such a note, after she had already withstood a verbal tongue-lashing from a guest.

Something you should know if you have IBS or some kind of urine retention problem:
MOST casino restaurants don’t have bathrooms inside the actual restaurant. Most don’t even have an employee bathroom. Instead, the restroom is located in the casino, where patrons from 2-3 different restaurants can utilize it. By using the available space like this, casinos can offer more dining options to their guests (instead of wasting the space on multiple restrooms). They can also maintain the facilities better, since there are less restrooms to continuously clean.

Once you really think about it, the situation makes perfect sense. Only on rare occasions does this situation cause any mentionable disturbance in one’s life. Sometimes, though, someone attempts to turn what most people would consider a non-issue into a “mentionable disturbance.” This was the case with Divine’s table this evening.

The closest restroom/loo/toilet/bathroom/head is located outside the restaurant and around the corner. I give directions to it an average of 30 times a night. The highest amount (that I actually took the time to keep track of) was an astounding 87.

Divine’s table consisted of a young, childless couple in their late twenties. After ordering, receiving, and eating most of her food, the woman left to use the restroom. She returned and immediately began yelling at Divine. She yelled like a maniac for 2-3 minutes about how it is Divine’s responsibility to inform ALL of her guests that there is not a restroom in the actual restaurant. The guest felt that Divine should tell EVERY-SINGLE-PERSON, prior to taking their food order, so they could have the option of dining elsewhere. The guest went on to say that the closest restroom was a 15 minute walk from the restaurant – it’s actually more like 2 if you walk really, really slow. Divine bit her tongue, apologized for the inconvenience, and informed the lady that if she had asked where the restroom was she would have been told. This did nothing to appease the insane lady. She continued to yell nonsense for another minute before eventually Divine excused herself. The lady’s husband intervened and soothed her long enough to allow her to finish her meal, request the check, and pay with a credit card.

When Divine collected the credit card slip the lady had placed a giant zero with a line through it in the tip and total area.

Below the signature line she left a note, in angry, giant writing:

NO RESTROOMS INSIDE!!!!!! WARN YOUR GUESTS!!!!!!!

I’m not sure exactly how many exclamation points there were in total, but there were enough for me to think that she is both serious and fucking crazy.

Chef Logic

July 3rd, 2010 6 Comments

Every Wednesday night our restaurant runs an all-you-can-eat rib special.

Our chef’s idea of all-you-can-eat means using the largest plate possible and filling it with enough food to feed a family of four Americans or an entire village in Africa. This particular special comes with two full racks of ribs and a giant mound of coleslaw and beans. Is it cost effective to needlessly pile that much food onto a plate? No… not really. Truthfully, more than half of the food is uneaten and winds up in the garbage.

But sometimes (I really mean almost always) our chef makes decisions that have no logical basis or he uses his own form of logic instead of real logic. This special is a prime example of our chef’s logic in action.

Chef logic: People should feel like they are getting a good deal. They will be impressed that they get this much food for such a low price.

My logic: People will still be just as impressed by getting half as much food and knowing they can get more if they want. More than likely they wouldn’t request more and we can sell twice as many specials or just make half as many ribs. Maybe people wouldn’t stuff themselves so full and we could possibly even sell dessert or perhaps they will order a second beer.

Delivering this special to a table provokes all sorts of reactions from guests.

Americans marvel at the size of the portion they receive. Their hearts fill with glee and they enthusiastically dig in using their hands. Soon their entire body is coated in a sticky film of BBQ sauce. They attempt to eat every bite but most can’t even eat half. When they have had their fill they will simply push the plate away and not worry about the waste. Every now and then one gluttonous American will ask for a second serving of ribs, which is only half of a rack (very few will finish it).

Some foreigners look at the portion and laugh. Lots of Asians point and take pictures while modeling behind the plate. Some Asians have each person model with the plate or model holding a rib. In whatever language they speak I imagine they are saying, “Holy fuck. This is a shit ton of food. No wonder Americans are so fat and lazy.” Frequently, foreign couples who ordered two specials demand that you return one to the kitchen and allow them to share one portion but pay for two specials.

Tonight the following occurred:

An older English couple were seated in my station today. They immediately picked up the table tent and inquired about our all-you-can-eat rib special. They both said that it sounded “lovely” and ordered it. When it arrived they looked at each other and said “Wow, that’s a lot of food.” I nodded my head in agreement. I left the food for them to eat and checked on them periodically throughout the meal. When I went to clear the empty plates from the table the man looked mad but he assured me that everything was fine. I gave him his check, ran his credit card, and returned with the slip. As soon as he signed his credit card slip he began yelling at me.

Man: You should be ashamed of yourself
Me: For…?
Man: You’ve gone and put too much food on the plate and made us eat it.
Me: How did I make you eat it?
Man: You put so much food there that if we didn’t eat it then we would be wasteful. I don’t like to waste food, neither does my wife.
Me: (looking puzzled)
Man: Now I’ve gone and made myself sick. It’s all your fault.
Me: I don’t control the portions.
Man: I hope you’re happy. My wife had to go throw up. You’ve ruined our entire evening, maybe even our vacation.

The man quickly left the restaurant, with his hand covering his mouth, as if he were about to hurl. I’m not sure if he did or not. It would’ve been the one time I actually wanted to see someone vomit.

Cock-Stroking Motion

June 25th, 2010 5 Comments

Since my last blog post Gaysian has been completely obsessed with his new celebrity status. I tried to convince him that a story featuring him on this blog by no means makes him famous but my effort was in vain. Not only did featuring him make him the most giddy gay of all time but he was also very flattered that a few comments were left on his particular post. He even offered to send in his facebook pic, which was only left up for a couple of days.

Gaysian has since chatted my ear off by telling me every minute detail of any potentially blog-worthy scenario. Being the lazy fuck that I am, I have neglected to blog any of them. Because of his efforts I have selected a story that he recently told me.

A deaf couple is sat in his station. They order their food in the same manner Asians do – by pointing to items on the menu and holding up one finger. When their food arrives they flag Gaysian down and start making an up and down cock-stroking motion (similar to when you jack off the air, only vertically). Gaysian looked puzzled and tries to figure out what they want, while covering his erection with a tray. Nothing turns on a Gay Asian more than the possibility of a hand job from a complete stranger. Eventually he figures out that they are requesting milkshakes. I guess vertical hand job is also sign language for milkshake.

Note: Gaysian didn’t really have boner or at least if he did he didn’t tell me. Also, some deaf people do the vertical hand job gesture for milkshake but the real sign for it is to sign m-i-l-k and then do the vertical hand job gesture twice. Some deaf people avoid doing this because it looks really obscene. Instead, they choose to sign out every letter in the word milkshake.

For fun: Act deaf and order a shake this way.

Potential Fodder For Your Blog

June 5th, 2010 3 Comments

Earlier I received this facebook message from Gaysian.

Subject: So here’s some potential fodder for your blog.

I was gonna write it as a comment but didn’t want to risk getting fired!

Woman: (think drunk blanch (RIP) from golden girls) i want a burger well done.
Me: okay, would you like any fries or onion rings with that?
Woman: what, RICE??
Me: no, any FRIES or onion rings with that?
Woman: RICE?? why would i want RICE with my burger??
Me: no, FRIES, like FRENCH FRIES.
Woman: huh, RICE?
(her less drunk friend intervenes)
Woman: ooohhhh friiiiiiies. (looks to me) you gotta say it like friiiiiiies with a country accent.
Me: i cant say it like that, would you like any fries or not?

Then…
Man: (think drunk obnoxious old smelly new yorker) oh… where does your name tag say you’re from?
Me: Berkeley, CA sir.
Man: ooohhhh BURMA! i hear thats a beautiful country!
Me: yes, yes it is. would you like something to drink?

Wow I never thought me being Asian had such an effect on my tables!

Me: It’s probably not because you’re asian but more because you’re gay. LOL.

Gaysian: no, if it were about being gay then all my tables would make me call them captain and sir.

Me: I just reported you for spam.

Gaysian: why cause i’m gay, Asian or both?

Me: Both. I have to take a nap now. Stop being so Asian.

Gaysian: okay enjoy your nap. i’m gonna go paint myself orange and take a headless pic of me in my bathing suit. see u tonight!

Me: LOL. That would be awesome. Do it!

Note: You probably don’t get the last comment by Gaysian unless you work with us. If you do and you still don’t understand then ask someone who works nights.

Fight Nights Are The Worst

May 29th, 2010 8 Comments

Fight nights are the worst. The worst clientele flock to Vegas to watch two grown men beat each other up over a million dollar purse. I simply don’t get it. The only fight that I am really interested in witnessing would be between two gay men in feather boas, tights, and tiaras fighting over a Swarovski Crystal encrusted Hermés Birkin purse – even then one of them would have to be a midget to maintain my interest.

What makes fight clientele the worst is not only the fact that they are cheap mother fuckers but they are also high-maintenance, impatient fuckwads. Now, I have spent many, many sleepless nights (well, really just this one) pondering exactly why they are so ridiculously, monumentally, fucking annoying. I still can’t decide if testosterone-driven sports like boxing, UFC, wrestling, or ribbon-twirling only attract mannerless douchebags OR if the people flocking here can more easily afford it because they skip out on child support and save a fortune by shopping for clothes at the Ed Hardy outlet store. Another explanation, of course, could be that the high end fight clientele are actually invited to private screening parties – instead of going into a restaurant, where the fight isn’t even being played, and then complaining about that fact. With that being said, here are two examples of why fight nights are the worst.

My first table was four guys. When I offered them water one of them instantly started annoying me.

Douche: “Hi, My name is —-, I will be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”

I thought momentarily about asking him if he wanted to wait on his friends while I sat in the back and drank coffee but decided against it. Instead I smiled, slow blinked twice, and asked them if they wanted drinks other than water. While his friends ordered their beverages he made weird faces at me. He was either trying to look like a deranged clown or attempting to make me stab him with a fork. After his friends finished ordering he tapped his finger on his chin and repeated “hmmm…. what do I want” approximately 14 times. His friends urged him to hurry up and told him that I didn’t have all day. Eventually, he said he only wanted the water that was already sitting in front of him (douche!).

When I brought the table their drinks the douche started saying sexually suggestive things to me.

“I like it nice and juicy.” “I’ll take more water. I like it really, really wet.” “You know what you can do for me.” “Take my order last, I’ll talk really low so you have to sit on my lap to hear me talk.”

At this point, I couldn’t even fake a smile. Besides dealing with a disgusting pervert, I also had two new tables and the kitchen printers just went down. The last line I let him say was “Call me Big Daddy and then I will order… I want to hear how it sounds rolling off your tongue.” With this I said “Well… you obviously need some more time since you aren’t ready to order.” I quickly walked away and gave the entire table a 5 minute penalty.

Note: A penalty is when you purposely avoid a table for a certain length of time to punish them for their behavior. It helps a guest understand that you are willing to ignore their requests/needs if they do not stop fucking around and get their shit together.

After the time-out the remaining people at the table began to regulate their friend’s behavior. One man handed me his credit card when they finished eating, apologized for his friend’s disgusting behavior, and tipped 20%.

While this guy had been sexually harassing me, a table of 6 was being waited on by Hello Kitty in another section.

The table consisted of 6 people originally – 4 super-slutty porn-wannabes with giant fake tits barely covered by clothes and 2 guys. Everyone ordered mixed drinks and food. When the food arrived one of the guys complains after eating 1/2 of his meal. The server takes his meal off the check. The second guy had only ordered a small appetizer so when he finished eating he hands some cash to one of the sluts and both of the guys leave. The sluts order another round of drinks, eat the remainder of their food, and request a check. When they look at the check they each pull out their cash and start scrambling to pay the bill. Cum Dumpster #1 counts the money and says “We are short $60.” Everyone stares blankly at each other. No one has any more money. Cum Dumpster #2 says “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” She flags the server down and says “I need to speak to your manager.” When Hello Kitty asks if everything is OK and offers to assist her, Cum Dumpster #2 replies “Did I ask for you to assist me? I asked you for a manager.” Hello Kitty gets the manager and tells him the situation.

Cum Dumpster #2 complains that the food was cold, cooked wrong, was the wrong order, and took forever. She also said the drinks were weak and make improperly. She went on to say that the service was horrible and the server never returned to the table after the food arrived. Of course, none of this was true. The server must have returned since they had more drinks. If the drinks were bad why did they order more? If the food was cold/incorrect/cooked wrong why wouldn’t they have complained before when their friend did? It was obvious that these whores just thought they could push their giant fake tits together and bat their long fake eyelashes and get their shit for free. My manager just stared at their tits the entire time, while telling them he wished they would have said something sooner, you know… before they consumed every bit of food/drink they had ordered. Since Cum Dumpster #2’s attempt at getting free shit was being thwarted she began to get seriously pissed. She said she was insulted by the shitty service Hello Kitty had given her and now claimed not only were they somehow completely neglected but Hello Kitty had been rude to them as well. Cum Dumpster #2 demanded that the manager force Hello Kitty to come over and apologize to the table for being so shitty at her job. The manager apologized on behalf of the server but refused to force the server to return to the table. The manager said he would deal with Hello Kitty privately (of course he wouldn’t really). Cum Dumpster #2 insisted that Hello Kitty be fired on the spot because she obviously sucks horribly at her job and is a giant bitch. My manager said he didn’t really have the ability to just fire someone on the spot (which is completely true… union rules).

Eventually the sluts admitted that hating the food/drinks/service wasn’t the only problem but they also couldn’t pay the bill because they didn’t have enough money. My manager told them if they didn’t find a way to pay the bill then security would deal with them. He then excused himself and went to the hostess stand to call security. By the time security had arrived the sluts had called the guys they had arrived with. The guys came back, paid the bill, and then left. When security arrived they escorted the sluts out of the restaurant.

Similar stories happened all night. Fight nights are the worst.

Fake Flirting

May 14th, 2010 3 Comments

Tonight I waited on four guys who were in their early twenties. They were polite enough. They weren’t demanding or obnoxious and they each said please and thank you. They also flirted a bit.

I should tell you first that I am horrible at fake flirting. I am not one of those servers who knows how to bat her eyelashes and flirt with octogenarians in an effort to make them part with their cash. While this is a skill admired by some, I kind of feel like it crosses a line that I’m not comfortable crossing. I’m sure if I didn’t hold this philosophy then I could easily learn how to fake flirt because I am simply awesome at everything I do.

I’m a waitress not a call girl. I wait tables not sell hand jobs for $20 (I’m honestly not sure how much a proper hand job should cost but someone once told me they pay $20). I’m not at work to flirt or lead desperate men to believe that after closing they can return and finger-bang me at the hostess stand. I also have no interest in giving out my number so I can “hook up” later. I know everyone wants to bone a waitress but flirting with me is a waste of time. Once I blow off the first feeble attempt I kind of feel like the guy should get the point. In order to save him the forthcoming embarrassment he should just shut the fuck up already. If a guy doesn’t get the point then I will say something that brings him so much shame that he really has no choice but to leave or be very quiet for the remainder of the meal. Then, of course, I pray that one of his friends pay the bill because the shaming of his friend will double my tip.

With that said, the flirting was harmless enough and it was pretty easy to ignore. When the group of guys left they tipped 50% ($40 on an $80 check). The busser hands me a scrap of paper from the table after they leave. It said:

Michael (the guy in the blue shirt)

You are cute:

Room # XXXX

Sure, it’s pretty common to get a guy’s number on the table. A lot of the time the note won’t even tell you which guy. I had one guy leave his number with no description and he was with 15 friends. The one thing that really amused me about this particular note was the fact that this guy didn’t even leave a phone number – just a room number. I’m thinking what kind of fucking dirtbag move is that? Does he think I’m just going to show up there, wearing nothing but an apron? How fucking desperate would I have to be to show up at all? The guy noticed how cute I am… so it’s pretty unlikely to happen.

My advice for guys who want to try this: do it to an ugly chick because they have much lower standards. Also, call dibs and tell your friends they have to abstain from flirting with her. You wouldn’t want all the attention to go to her head and decrease the probability of penetration.

She’s Asleep Now

May 3rd, 2010 3 Comments

Tonight started off slowly. One person called out and wasn’t replaced. Another person left pretty early. We didn’t get busy until 10 p.m. or so. 30 minutes later all of the computers went down. The problem was with the network itself. We could technically ring new tickets in and recall them on the same computer. The main problem was that access to the server wasn’t available, therefore all the existing tickets simply disappeared. We scrambled to create new tickets for our existing tables, since everyone wanted to leave at once as usual.

Approximately 45 seconds before the computers crashed I had volunteered to pick up a 13 top that had to be sat in a closed station. I didn’t actually want to do it but someone had to. Had I of known what the future held for me I definitely would have made these assholes wait at the door until a table was available elsewhere. I took the table to benefit them, not me. I am not a table whore.

Half of the party arrived first. The second half arrived right after I had finished closing my other tables out. The party already had water and a few ordered drinks. One lady insisted they order right away since her child was falling asleep. She also wanted to make sure that her child’s food came out first. I rang in the food, requesting the child’s food to come out first. Three minutes later the woman demanded to know where her child’s food was. To her “first” meant “immediately.” I politely explained the difference between the two.

Note: When the computers go down the kitchen automatically crashes. This is an unavoidable and often unexplainable fact.

Five minutes later the lady asks about the meal again, at this point all the children are asleep (and had been asleep since 14 seconds after I took their order). I return two minutes later with the child’s food and she replies “She’s asleep now so just forget it.” The bitchiness in her voice was completely unnecessary. Also, her fucking kid had been asleep for 10 minutes. Two of the times she asked about the food her child was asleep. Why put me through the trouble of begging the kitchen for your sleeping child’s food if you are just going to refuse it when I get it? This is when things with this party quickly started to unravel.

Several minutes later the entire table’s food arrived- Just in time to avoid a riot. Everyone was getting pretty surly. I instructed the food runner to verify everything before placing the food in front of someone since they decided to play musical chairs once their order was placed. He verified each item as he placed it. Some people switched food around. Others just didn’t pay attention and got burgers with wrong cooking temperatures. They complained once they had started eating them and didn’t want to wait for new ones. A couple of people complained that their food was cold – It was. No one had been happy with the wait for the food. All of these complaints were voiced to the manager. None of them involved me or was related to service in any way what-so-ever. I was nice, polite and apologetic. None of this mattered to these fuckholes who were getting ruder by the second.

The manager took $90 worth of food of off the $200 check. I knew these people would only bitch if I added gratuity to their check (even though the service wasn’t the problem) so I opted to leave it off and knew I was screwing myself. Most of the people paid with cash, after being instructed that each credit card would take 5-10 minutes to process because the cashier had to call for authorization. One guy didn’t have cash so he had to pay a portion of the bill with a credit card. It took 5 minutes or so to bring the credit card slip back. He didn’t leave a tip and neither did anyone else.

My advice to parties who arrive at a restaurant where the computer have just crashed:

You should know what you are getting in to.

Take your sleepy fucking children to a quick, fast place to eat – Like a fast food restaurant in one of the many food courts located on the strip and within hotels. Be considerate – just get them some food and put them to bed already.

It’s not my fault that you didn’t have enough common sense to feed your child at a reasonable hour or to pick a dining establishment that specializes in fast food. I know your kid has only been alive and in your care for 9 years or so – It’s completely understandable that you still don’t know when to feed her.

Don’t penalize your server for things that are simply out of their control. Take your free food and shut up already.

BTW, you should really consider not ordering burgers extra well done if you want them to come out in a reasonable amount of time.

That Won’t Be Necessary

May 1st, 2010 3 Comments

Tonight I was removing dishes from a table when the following brief and somewhat embarrassing conversation occurred.

Me: May I take your plate?
Man: If you want me to lick it I will.
Men: (realizing how dirty he sounded the man begins laughing like a lunatic)
Me: That won’t be necessary.
Men: Wait… I wasn’t talking about your vagina.
Me: I figured.

Good Old John

April 28th, 2010 3 Comments

Our last assistant manager was escorted out by security for drinking on the job. When I say drinking on the job I do not mean having a refreshing glass of beer to de-stress. What I mean is he was shit-faced (near falling down) drunk. You could also smell the alcohol oozing from his pores from across the restaurant.

He was, at the very least, a pleasant and fun drunk. He joked a lot and skipped around like a leprechaun who had finally found their misplaced gold. He also put receipts behind his ears and roared like a dinosaur.

While watching him frolic around like Cooter Brown was both fun and entertaining, it really wasn’t professional or acceptable. Even though restaurants run themselves, him being so visibly intoxicated was just bad for business. He was escorted off property towards the end of his shift.

This situation left us minus one manager. The remaining managers have been working long hours and working 7 days a week for almost 2 months now – exactly why I would never be them. After scouring the face of the Earth (and possibly Mars) they have finally found what they deem to be a suitable replacement.

Because people within this industry change jobs frequently, it is simply impossible for anyone to start entirely anew. Someone from your new job ALWAYS knows someone from your last job. Past co-workers will spill all of your dirty little secrets long before you have a chance to do so yourself. With that said, our new manager has previously worked at several other locations on the strip and someone immediately recognized him. In an attempt to get him to spill his own dirt, I pretended to know someone he used to work with.

Me: Did you used to work at XXXX?
Him: Yes
Me: Oh, my friend John works there.
Him: Hmmmm…. Good old John.
Me: Yep, Good old John.
Him: Is he still mad at me?
Me: You’ll have to ask him yourself.
Him: What did he say about me?
Me: Nothing really.
Him: He didn’t say anything bad about me?
Me: He didn’t say anything positive.
Him: I’ll take that as a yes.

Later….

Me: So why do you think John doesn’t like you?
Him: You’ll have to ask him that.
Me: Touché

Waiting In Vegas

This is what waiting tables on the Las Vegas strip is really like.