Waiting In Vegas

Picky Bitch

January 19th, 2010 2 Comments

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.

Sleeping With Men

January 18th, 2010 4 Comments

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.”

My Wife Wants To Eat Somewhere Else

January 10th, 2010 1 Comment

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.

Voice Your Complaints

January 9th, 2010 2 Comments

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.

Curly Sue Is A Smartass

January 6th, 2010 3 Comments

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

Mr. Hip Hop

January 2nd, 2010 2 Comments

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.

I Thought I Had Heard Every Douchey Thing

December 28th, 2009 No Comments

A couple came in and ordered a sandwich to share. When the server offered to cut it in half the man replied “That would be rocktacular.” I honestly thought I had heard every douchey thing you could put the word “rock” in but apparently I hadn’t.

The Course Line Key

December 27th, 2009 1 Comment

Anyone who has waited tables for a number of years has probably witnessed an advancement in the computer systems used within the industry. Years ago, before computers, all servers wrote orders by hand and walked them into the kitchen. Now most places use a computer system that stores the tickets in a database and sends copies wherever they need to go (bar, the various stations in the kitchen & to the expo station).

One particular advancement within the industry is the “course line” key. In most places, servers are required to use this to indicate to the kitchen the order in which the food is supposed to arrive at the table. For instance, if you ring in a starter you would then hit the course line key. This would place a line on the screen that says course 2 and indicate to the kitchen that everything above the line should come out first. This feature prevents servers from forgetting to fire courses and puts the expo in charge of making sure the food is appropriately spaced. Like all systems, this works out most of the time and fails others. Here is an example:

An older couple came in this evening. They both ordered wine and some food to share. Their food consisted of a salad, which was requested to arrive first with an extra bowl. They also wanted to share a rare burger, cut in half, and some fries. Upon completing their order, the woman said “The salad will come out first, right?” I assured her that it would and then rang their order in. Their salad arrived a couple of minutes later and they began eating it. About 10 minutes later they had eaten 75% of it and the remainder of their food arrived. They looked outraged. I went over to the table and the nice couple had been replaced with two raging fucking lunatics.

The lady looked at me and said “Well… they brought the burger out. I specifically asked for my salad to arrive first. They messed up BIG TIME.” I explained that the salad did in fact come out first and that normally burgers come out 10-15 minutes later (depending on cooking temp) and sometimes there might be a slight overlap. I then asked her if she wanted me to remove the burger until she was finished with her salad. She replies “Why? So you can put it under a heat lamp until I am ready. If I wanted to eat at McDonald’s I would have.” She had previously been so nice that I was astounded by her transformation into a mega-cunt. I offered to have another burger cooked from scratch and she just glared at me with such disdain that all I could say is “What is it that you would like me to do to resolve the situation?” The husband replied “There is nothing you can do. We will be fine.” He then shooed me away.

I walked by a couple of times to make sure their drinks were full and once they had emptied some of their plates I offered to remove them. The woman looked at me like I had just fucked her dead husband’s corpse right in front of her and said “What you can do is stay away from us.” Having immense PMS forced me to begin laughing out loud and I walked away. I told my manager how pissed the table was and he replied “Why, did you queef on them?” I waited to go back to the table until the guy flagged me down for the check and requested a box. When I returned with his credit card slip he said “You tell your kitchen they messed up BIG TIME and they know it!” I told him I would pass the message along, smiled, and told him to have a wonderful night.

Some people are just rude cocksuckers and nothing you do will ever make them happy but if you want to make them really unhappy be overly nice and cheerful to them while they are pissed off over something minute, inconsequential, and ridiculously fucking petty.

Competing Noises Conundrum

December 26th, 2009 No Comments

If you’ve ever eaten in a casino restaurant that happens to be adjacent to a night club or bar then you have probably experienced the “competing noises conundrum.” This happens when two establishments, who are close in proximity, both play their music as loud as humanly possible in an effort to drown the other out. Neither establishment ever wins and the sound produced resembles a set played by an inexperienced DJ who is playing two completely different & unmatched records at the same time, without even so much as an attempt to match the beat. If you think being a guest in this situation sucks, put yourself in the staff’s shoes. We have to hear this shit for hours on end sometimes. At least as a guest you can forgo the dining experience to begin with or leave once the competing noises cause you to seize.

As a result of the “competing noises conundrum,” my manager went to investigate the noise level coming from down the hall. When he returned, we had the following conversation:

Him: Wow, it’s really loud tonight. You can even hear it outside the building.

Me: Yeah, but the good news is that I just queefed at my table and they didn’t hear it.

Him: I don’t even know what to say. That’s disgusting.

Me: (shrugging shoulders) eh.

I later had to confess that I did not in fact queef and am not talented enough to do so on command, while standing.

The Waiter Rule

December 12th, 2009 4 Comments

I recently read an article in USA Today explaining the psychology behind “the waiter rule.” If you are unfamiliar with this rule it goes something like this: you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat wait staff. The way you treat a server speaks volume about your character and it cannot be learned or unlearned. Your behavior is telling of how you were raised, how you view people, how you view yourself in relation to other people, and how well you cooperate with others.

If you don’t believe “the waiter rule” then it’s probably because you are exactly who the rule applies to – you could possibly be uncooperative, arrogant, demanding, demeaning, insulting, or just plain rude. If you are then you should know that unless you are dining alone, you are only screwing yourself asshole. The truth is that any experienced server has dealt with douchebags like you before and doesn’t take it personally. Also, you should know that if you are dining with a friend, relative, or a co-worker they are in fact embarrassed – this is evident by their need to repeatedly apologize for your shitty behavior the moment you leave the table. Being a rude asshole on a date (with someone you want to screw) is even worse. Here’s proof:

A party of four come in – two extremely scantily dressed hot girls and two well groomed, expensively dressed, average looking men. They are obviously on a double date. The group just left a club and everyone was slightly tipsy. One guy was being a complete douche. He kept asking a million retarded questions, demanded to be read the menu, snapped his fingers, asked for the same thing multiple times, asked where his food was every five seconds, ordered more drinks before even taking a swallow of the two he had etc. His friend didn’t seem to notice but when he left to use the restroom the girls repeatedly apologized and said he had been drinking. The server told them not to worry about it – she deals with lots of drunk assholes.

Finally, after the foursome finished their meal the drunk douchebag snatches the check and insists on paying. The total was $150. He paid with his credit card and tipped $10. The server shrugged it off and kept working. As she was clearing the table the two girls came up and asked her how much he had tipped. When the server told them, one of the girls looks at the other one and says “you better not fucking sleep with that fucking dirtbag and I mean it!!!” She then reaches into her purse and gives the server $30 and apologizes.

Waiting In Vegas

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