The change was broken down as such:

1- $20 bill
3 – $10 bills
1 – $5 bill
3 – $1 bills

When I presented them with their change, I counted it back and placed it on the table. The man pocketed the bills, as the woman reached for her purse. She reached inside, pulled out her coin purse, and dumped it on the table. Like two beavers working on a dam, they both scurried to stack the coins into neat little piles. There wasn’t even a discussion about it. There wasn’t a pause or a batting of eyelashes, or any indication that these two fuckwads needed to consider the event that was unfolding. They were both on auto-pilot and it was as if this was just what they did at the end of every good dining experience.

At this point of the story, you are probably thinking that these two fuckers just don’t know any better and that perhaps I should cut them some slack. Even if this story did not continue from this point on, it’s important to note that it’s not appropriate to empty your fucking change purse on the table to tip your server. It is also not acceptable to leave 5 or 6 quarters in a neat little stack next to a fucking Jesus pamphlet. This is an embarrassment to Jesus himself. In fact, Jesus pamphlets being left in lieu of a tip are probably responsible for converting more industry workers into atheists than all of the sex scandals of the catholic church’s history combined.

Next time you are thinking about leaving literature in lieu of a tip, you should know two things:

- It’s going in the trash, without ever being read.
- Jesus will smite you eventually. Now… I don’t know Jesus personally but common sense tells me that he would be respectful to his server and tip well. He liked prostitutes and waiting tables is kind of the same thing – just less lube and more clothes (you can argue the same for all customer service jobs where you have to smile and pretend to like people who are complete cunt rags in exchange for money).

With that said:

Now that these two fuckers have stacked their change into piles on the table. They both stand to leave. I glance at the table and then at the man’s face to see if I can detect even a trace of shame. He looks me square in the eyes, smiles, and says, “Everything was fantastic. Sorry about all the change, I didn’t have any bills. Thanks a lot. ”

Obviously, the man was a lying piece of shit. The fact that he had the audacity to lie right to my face was just repulsive. It’s one thing to be a cheap fucking asshole but don’t lie about the reason you are leaving me the contents of your fuckhole wife’s coin purse (lint and all). What kind of person makes up such a piece of shit excuse and what benefit does it really serve?

Is it …

An attempt to play it cool, hoping I the server doesn’t recall counting his change back to him 2 minutes earlier, thus avoiding a big scene?

An attempt to save face and prevent neighboring tables from thinking he was a complete shithead?

An attempt to create a memorable and bloggable experience by making a waitress stab him with a nearby sharp object. I’m assuming he blogs, everyone does… right?

Whatever the reason, he really did look me right in the eyes and create a lie to excuse his behavior. Since responding with, “You lying pile of dogshit,” is generally frowned upon by my employer the only thing I could respond with was, “Wow… I really wish you would’ve told me you needed change… I could have gotten it from the cashier who gave me the change I just brought you.”

The couple went on their merry way and I took the change to the cashier to switch it to bills. The two heaping handfuls of pennies and nickels amounted to $2.75 total.

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.

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.

The man (looking confused): That’s for you. It’s a tip.

He tries to hand it to me again.

Me:  That’s OK – you keep it

His wife:  He likes to give those to people.  He gives them to the baggage handlers & cocktail waitresses.  He gives them to everyone.

Me:  I don’t need it.  It’s OK

The man: It’s like a souvenier

Me: How is it a souvenir if I didn’t go to Canada to get it? Besides, It’s not worth my time to cash it in.

The man: Well, you can use it when you go to Canada

Me: I don’t plan on visiting Canada. (with a big smile) Have a nice day though.

With that, the couple left.

No, fries are not included.

Cheese is $1 extra.

Additional toppings are $1.50.

Drinks are $3.

She finally decides to order a coke and a burger (no cheese or extra toppings) with no fries.  When I bring her drink out, she takes several drinks and then flags me down.  When I arrive at her table she says “Can I cancel my soda?”  I ask her “Is there something wrong with it?” She tells me that there is nothing wrong with the soda, she just changed her mind after drinking 1/4 of it.  I tell her that if there were something wrong with it then I would replace it but she ordered it & drank 1/4 of it so now she must pay for it.  After her burger arrives, she takes an hour to eat it with a fork and a knife.  I offer her a refill and she declines (assuming because she doesn’t know it’s free). A few minutes later she asks me if refills are free and then requests one.  After she finishes most of her burger she says “Can I get a free coffee.”  To which I reply “No, but you can get one for $3.”  She declines.  She pays her $18 check with a $20 and tells me to keep the change.

When people ask me what the difference is between Kobe beef and Angus beef I tell them one of the main differences is the Kobe beef has a higher fat content, making it juicier.  I also tell them that the more they cook it, the less they notice the difference since the fat cooks away.  Three out of five times the person still orders their burger to at least medium well - Some still insist on me bringing them a ‘hockey puck.’

The truth is, in life and in beef a fucking hockey puck is a hockey puck.  If you are going to cook your meat to a point that it is now beef jerkey you might as well as eat at fucking McDonalds.  You shouldn’t come in and complain about our high prices when you are destroying our high quality beef with your shitty cooking preferences. This applies to you Canada.

Since I work on the Las Vegas strip during a down economy I wait on A LOT of Canadians.  Apparently, nothing scares a Canadian more than undercooked beef.  In fact, a large portion of my day is spent explaining cooking temperatures to people who sometimes reply “It is illegal to serve beef not fully cooked, how can you guys stay open?”  On a good day I can simply ignore these twats and slow blink but in most cases it takes every ounce of my being to not bludgeon them to death with a nearby chair.  So for your convenience Canada I have written some cooking temperatures below, as well as some other things you might want to know about consuming beef in restaurants within the U.S.

Dear Canada,

Please note the following for correct cooking temperatures within the U.S.

Rare: Brown on the outside, red/raw throughout.

Medium Rare: Brown on the outside, pink throughout, with a cool red center.

Medium: Brown on the outside, pink throughout.

Medium-Well: Brown on the outside, mostly cooked throughout with a slight amount of pink.

Well: Cooked throughout, no pink

Hockey Puck: Burnt to a crisp with an outer shell of hard crunchy stuff including grill scrapings and the cook’s pubes, cooked throughout without a trace of moisture (except maybe saliva and snot).  The saliva and snot is mostly noticeable if you sent back your fully cooked well done burger and needed it cooked more.

Also, note:

No, it is not illegal for me to serve you undercooked meat.  We are in the U.S. not some 3rd world country where the meat is actually a stray dog that had been limping in the alley.

Yes, as a matter of fact I have heard of “Jack in the Box”  - Where in 1993 a strain of E.Coli (or e colleee as Larry King would say) infected hundreds of unsuspecting diners and killed 4 children.  First of all, “Jack in the Box,” other fast food establishments, and most sit down chain restaurants, use a lower quality beef.  Because of this they choose to fully cook their beef to a higher temperature since they can’t afford to be sued for $10 million like Jack in the Box was.  This is their choice.

These places are owned by corporations that offer you low prices by getting their meat in bulk from some food service company who purchases their meat from somewhere else.  It is unlikely that the person serving the meat can tell you where it was raised or slaughtered.  The manager doesn’t know and neither does the fucking delivery driver dropping the meat off.  No one gives a fuck either because they are going to cook the shit out of it and cover it with cheese and mayonnaise so you won’t give a fuck either.

If this is the way you are used to getting your meat within the U.S then you are probably accustomed  to eating at low end dining establishments or visiting places where hillbillies are grown.  Even shitty local bars in Las Vegas will cook your burger as rare as you like it.  Some chain restaurants will also serve you rare beef, like Ruby Tuesday’s or you can order a medium rare burger at Fuddrucker’s which more than likely will not be cooked correctly.

The point is: Don’t argue with your fucking server about cooking temperatures because you simply don’t know what the fuck you are talking about and it is annoying, you little fuck.  Also, when I take the extra time to explain cooking temperatures… how about you take the time to listen?  Shut the fuck up and stop arguing with your fat , balding, blue-eye-shadow-wearing wife about whether or not you can afford two orders of fries or have to split one and pay fucking attention.

Then I won’t have to hear your bitch ass complain about how your burger isn’t cooked the way you ordered it.

Thanks, your cooperation is appreciated.

I had to walk away because any smart ass comment would’ve been completely lost on him. I would like to note that in all the years that I have waiting tables NO ONE (except this guy) has ever asked me for a pillow or something to sit on. Also, I have worked in places with chairs that were way less comfortable.

Her: Lattice on zee sied

Me: Huh?

Her: Lattice on zee sied (slightly annoyed)

Me: Lattice?

Her: Lattice on zee sied (getting more annoyed and using a firmer voice)

Me: Lattice? on the side? (saying it to myself in an attempt to figure out what she is saying)

Her: green lattice… on zee sied

Me: OH…. lettuce.  You want the lettuce from your burger on the side?

Her:  Huh?

Me: Do you want the lettuce that normally comes on your burger on the side?

Her:  No, No, No. I want a sied of lattice.

Me:  You want lettuce on a plate on the side? And the burger the way it comes?

Her: Yes.

Me:  So… just some lettuce on a plate?

Her:  Saleeed

Me: OH… You want a side salad?

Her: YEEEES

Me:  We don’t have side salads

Her:  You have no side saleeeed

Me:  No, we have no side saleeeed

Her: (looking pissed) OK, then jest the burger.

I repeated the story to my neo-nazi co-worker and we both laughed.  I was surprised when these ladies tipped me 20%.