Waiting In Vegas

Sometimes I think that people only dine out for the sake of having something to complain about. I’m not saying that where I work screws up so much they have no choice but to complain. What I am saying is that some people are just constantly on the lookout for an opportunity to be rude fucking assholes with no consequences for their dick behavior – restaurants are a perfect place for this.

For example, last night an elderly couple came in, walked past the hostess stand, and sat themselves in my section. Instead of being an asshole and sending them to the hostess stand so I could avoid being triple sat, I just brought them some menus. The couple looked like two typical, wrinkly tourists – both donning Las Vegas shirts probably purchased from a nearby gift store. They were living incarnations of the statue inside Harrah’s.

I immediately filled their water glasses and told them I would return after giving them a minute to look over the menu. They insisted they were ready to order their drinks and food right away so I offered to take their order. What they actually meant to say was “we are inconsiderate assholes who didn’t have the foresight to know that dining out required us to read a menu so we both left our reading glasses at home. Even though we just sauntered in and sat ourselves in your section we assume that you have time to read everything on the menu to us because we are the most important people in the entire world and your other tables who were sat by the hostess and read the menu themselves should just wait.”

Either way, I patiently read the menu to these two fucktards and they finally agreed on a burger to share and an order of fries. After waiting for what seemed an infinite amount of time for them to finish arguing over how the burger would be cooked they finally shooed me away. Two minutes later the woman flagged me down to tell me that she forgot to mention that she wanted a diet coke with lemon. I brought her one and refilled both of their waters several times before their food arrived.

When the food runner dropped the food off I noticed there was some kind of commotion going on and approached the table. Apparently, the kitchen had forgotten to put bacon on their burger and the 90 seconds it took the food runner to return with the bacon was a ridiculous amount of time. Instead of saying this to me they just said “This is fucking ridiculous. Get the manager.” When I approached my manager I briefed him on what happened – which I didn’t think to be that big of a deal myself. No one had been rude or bitchy to them and they had not been neglected in any way.

When my manager arrived at the table the old man began yelling a bunch of nonsense. His first complaint was that even though his wife ordered diet, the beverage that was brought to her was regular coke. This of course was simply not true. She ordered diet, I rang in diet, and she was in fact brought a diet with a lemon. Instead of telling me her suspicion one of the many times I walked by her table, filled their water glasses, or rang in orders at the waitstation that was located right next to their table, they waited until they had a legitimate but small complaint and demanded a manager. Later, the husband went on to say that the main problem with being brought the wrong drink (which was half gone) was that his wife was diabetic. Why the fuck would a diabetic drink half of a soda before complaining? I’m really not sure – find bitch face and ask her. The man continued yelling because even though this lady has been diabetic for YEARS and knew she would be dining out, she had not prepared for such a situation by bringing her insulin. Why? I’m really not sure – maybe she has a death wish or wants to get some rest by being comatose for a while. During this heated discussion the man claimed they were locals and only on the strip to eat.

He continued to yell about his bacon being missing – even though this was remedied in 90 seconds (before they even finished putting ketchup on their bun). The man yelled like a crazy person saying that his food was hot when it arrived and was freezing by the time the bacon arrived. He then yelled about how he had eaten here before and had a similar experience and he would not be returning. My manager bought their meal and apologized. Out of earshot he said he hoped they weren’t bluffing about not returning.

The point is these people were miserable from the time they arrived. I can only assume they came for the sole purpose of complaining since they have eaten here before and had a bad experience. Why the fuck else would you return to a place you previously had a bad experience? There are hundreds of other places to eat in town. My guess is that they aren’t locals and they are probably living on social security. Instead of spending their tiny monthly allotment on dining out they just complain loudly enough to get their meal paid for and save a ton of money by getting free food and stiffing waitstaff.

Yeah… they stiffed me too.

Tonight was one of those nights where if anything could go wrong it did in fact go wrong.  The night started out simple enough. Sure, there was a line but tables were being sat at a manageable pace and the kitchen was sending food out pretty quickly. Then, five of my tables leave at once, are bussed at the same time, and are immediately sat with new parties.  Of course, all 5 of the new tables are in a rush and each of them think that they are more important than the other.

While I am getting drink orders and trying to get my shit together my remaining 3 tables get their food. One of the tables complain that their fries are cold, another that their burger is improperly prepared, and the remaining one needs more beer.  Within minutes I am so fucking far behind I begin to think that one of my new tables might just get up and leave.  Of course, I couldn’t be so lucky.  I push through and finally recover only to discover that no tickets are printing in the kitchen.

All 5 of my tables orders haven’t even been started because the kitchen isn’t getting tickets.  Everyone rewrites their orders on hand-written checks and turns them into the kitchen.  The kitchen is so fucking far behind that I begin to think my tables might really get up and walk out now.  Not only are they far behind but food is returning to the kitchen for a variety of reasons (cold, burnt, undercooked, missing ingredients, special instructions not followed) – Not just my food but everyone’s.  All in all it was one gigantic clusterfuck until after the dinner rush passed and then the place cleared out.

During the middle of it all I was sat a party of four, which consisted of two elderly couples.  They were obviously in town for Nascar and one of the men was donning a cowboy hat that Bocephus himself would envy.

Me: Hi, Can I get your some water?

Bocephus: Separate checks

Me: Ok, would you like some water?

Bocephus: I’ll have a coffee.

Everyone else puts their water glasses near me to indicate that they would like some water.  I take their drink order and return with their drinks. The last drink I place on the table is the coffee.

Bocephus: Is this decaf?

Me: No sir.

Bocephus: I wanted decaf

Me: Sorry, You just said coffee so I assumed you wanted regular coffee.

Bocephus: Well, I didn’t. I obviously can’t drink regular coffee at this hour.

Me: After I put your order in I will get you a decaf.  Has everyone decided on food?

It is important to note that this people were deaf as hell.  I was practically yelling at them and they still insisted that I was talking too low.  The table across from them was even obviously uncomfortable with how loud I was talking. The man from the first couple orders a sandwich.  His wife doesn’t order anything because our prices are outrageous. Bocephus orders a burger cooked extra, extra well done with no sides because they are too expenisive. His wife orders a salad.  Each of the couple inform me (again) that they need separate checks.  They also tell me that they are in a hurry and need to be out the door within 45 minutes.  I tell then that it might not happen because extra, extra well done burgers take longer to cook.

I ring their order in and return with the decaf.

Bocephus: This is decaf, right?

Me: Yes sir.

Bocephus: Is it fresh?

Me: It should be.

Bocephus: Good. Put a strawberry shake on my check also.

Me: Did you want me to bring that out now?

Bocephus: No, I don’t want it now. I’m drinking coffee.

Me: So, you want to order it later?

Bocephus: Yes, later.

Me: OK, let me know when you want it and I will bring it then.

Bocephus nods his head in agreement. The table gets their food and I stop to make sure their food is prepared properly and they have everything they need. The lady who didn’t order anything decides she wants a small appetizer. I ring it in.  I return to check on the table once they have taken a couple of bites of their food.  I also return a few moments later to refill their drinks.  Once the remaining lady gets her food I check on them two more times (when she gets it and once she tries it).  I walk by the table several times and make eye contact.  I also prebus the table four separate times because each of them finish eating at different times.  At the end of the meal I offer them dessert and they each just grumble that they are ready for their checks.  They tell me (again) that they need separate checks. I bring their checks out.

Bocephus: You never brought my shake out.

His wife: I see you didn’t charge him for it so I guess never mind.

Me: I’m sorry about that. Did you want me to bring it in a plastic cup to go?

Bocephus (yelling): NO! I WANTED IT WITH MY BURGER!

Me: I did tell you to tell me when you wanted it, right?

Bocephus: (silent, looking confused)

Me: At some point did you tell me that you were ready and that you wanted it?

Bocephus: I would’ve told you but you never came back.

Me: I’ve been to your table several times.

Bocephus: No you haven’t.

Me: I refilled your coffee and water twice and I checked on you and asked you how everything was four times.

Bocephus: Whatever.

At this point I just walked away. Bocephus can pretty much go fuck himself.  When I return to the table Bocephus gives me his check with the exact change.  The other couple tips me $3 (exactly what I was expecting).  The hostess brings Bocephus his walker and they slowly head out the door.