Sleeping With Men

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

They Call Me Captain

Whenever the rodeo is in town every casino is flooded with men of all ages wearing nut hugging jeans so tight that you can see the outline of their junk. Their ensemble also includes cowboy hats of all shapes, colors, and sizes – excluding the straw kid cowboy hats they sell at the $.99 store.  Often, the men and women wear matching shirts.  The woman frequently completes her outfit with a camel toe.  Most of these cowboys are harmless enough.  You just have to remember to speak slowly and use small words.  Apparently, these cowboys are real big on respect too – as demonstrated in the following story.

Gaysian (my gay asian co-worker) waited on a party that consisted of two cowboys and a cowgirl.  As he cleared the plates from the table one of the men asked if they could have the check. Gaysian said something like “Yes, I will get that for you.”

When Gaysian returned with the check he placed it on the table and the following conversation happened:

Cowboy: Do you know who I am?

Gaysian: No sir, should I?

Cowboy: You should.

Gaysian: Are you going to give me a hint?

Cowboy: Where I come from they call me Captain and him (pointing to his friend) Mister.

Gaysian: That doesn’t sound familiar. Can I have another hint?

Cowboy (angrily): Where I come from people call you SIR.  When I ask for the check I expect “YES SIR.”

Gaysian: I’ll collect your payment when you are ready, SIR.

Needless to say, the cowboy stiffed Gaysian.

I Don’t Plan On Visiting Canada

An older couple came in, each ordering an extra well done burger and fries.  They were extremely pleasant and asked for advice on sights, shows, and dining.  Since it was pretty slow I chatted with them until their food came.  Then I brought them vinegar and mayo for their fries.  Even though I knew they were Canadian and probably going to only tip me 10% at most, I still made sure their drinks remained full and that they had everything they needed.  In short, I provided them with excellent service and even gave them some knowledge not usually privy to tourists.  When they went to pay they charged their check to the hotel room, leaving the tip area blank.  As they got up from the table the man said to me “Thank you so much for the great service, everything was wonderful - Best service and meal since we have been in Vegas by far.” He then places a $1 Canadian coin in my hand as a tip.  I look down, completely insulted, and hand it back to him.

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.