Waiting In Vegas

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.