Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Truly insulting

I had used a previously started draft from July when I originally posted this, not realizing it would put it back in the archives. Re-posting so it's in its proper place!)

I had a table today of six. One of them, a woman around twenty, was in military fatigues. They were nice enough, unremarkable ... Until the end. After I had already run their credit card and returned it to the table, the older gentleman (fatigue-wearer's father) waved me down. 

"Do you have a military discount?"
I told him we did, but it would take several minutes to do and I'd need to re-run his credit card. Usually that discourages people, but not this time. 
"That's okay. We'll wait!"
Fuck. 

So I took the card and got Fester, who first of argued with me and tried to say that you can't so discounts on tickets that were pulled back after being closed. He got even more grumpy when I told him yes you can, you just can't void things. Eventually, be pulled the ticket back and did the discount - for the person in the military, who was not the person who paid - and made the comment "she's not supposed to wearing her uniform in public like that."

So I re-ran the card and returned it to the table, with a copy of their receipt. I continued waiting on my other tables, noticing out of the corner of my eye that the military girl and her parents were all crowded around the receipt and talking to each other in hushed tones. But they didn't stop me as I walked slowly by, so I shrugged it off. 

When I next came out of the kitchen, military mom had cornered Fester and was almost yelling. From across the restaurant I heard her say "that is truly insulting!" and then his reply that "a ten percent discount is insulting?"

Apparently she stormed up to him and demanded to know why that ten percent discount didn't apply to everyone at the table - and then told him it was insulting that her daughter only got ten percent off of her personal food "after all she's been through."

("All she's been through," it turned out, was basic training.)

Fester refused to give the rest of them a discount and when he went back to the kitchen he unloaded about how insulting he found it that this family was trying to use their daughter's military service that way. "They're the kind of people who show on Veteran's Day and think having a kid in the military entitles them to free food!"

I wasn't as pissed as ex-Army Fester, but I was still annoyed. My grandfather was a career soldier and he would never have asked for a military discount. My aunt is in the Navy and my cousin is Army, my best friend's brother is Air Force, etc etc - none of the military people I know would have allowed a family member to make a scene that way. Maybe if they were treating the rest of the family to a meal, they might have asked if it applied to everything - but they'd never demand. 

I'm okay if that family doesn't come back. They left a bad taste in everyone's mouths. 

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

I need a 'duh' discount.

Nothing seemed amiss when the lady at table 12 ordered a Pepsi. I mean, it's Pepsi. It's pretty universal. Right?

Apparently not. After I'd already rung in her order, she waved me over and asked for something else to drink. "I'm diabetic," she said, "so Pepsi is just too sugary for me."

Reminds me of the bitch who sent back a ham sandwich for being "too hammy."

Monday, August 11, 2014

Faith in humanity: restored

I had a family of three today that just gave me a weird feeling. They were all very polite. Very friendly. They all made eye contact while speaking and said please and thank you. It was almost too polite and too much eye contact. I just had a feeling that I was in for a verbal tip.

Pictured: a typical indicator of a poor tip.
When they left, the man handed me the money ... sandwiched in to a prayer pamphlet. I smiled and said thank you and wished them a good day, while silently steeling myself the kind of tip I'm accustomed to from Bible thumpers.

So imagine my shock when I went in to the kitchen and pulled out the money ... and found they had left me two crisp, perfect fifty dollar bills. Their bill was a little under $75. Now, I know there are places where that kind of tip is nothing. But for three people at Generic Corporate Restaurant? Holy cow.

I chased them out in to the parking lot to thank them and tell them that they made my day.

Monday, July 28, 2014

A fair trade.

So I've been back slinging hash for a while now, and I've been a little anxious, wondering if I was going to end up just depleting my savings and finding myself living shift to shift again. I felt like I couldn't possibly be making as much as I was before, and I was starting to freak out.


Yeah. Turns out that, while I did make $78 (after taxes) less this month than at my desk job .... I worked 75 fucking hours less. Seventy-five hours! That's more than three entire extra days of my damn life I got back.

I'm good with that.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Truly insulting.

I had a table today of six. One of them, a woman around twenty, was in military fatigues. They were nice enough, unremarkable ... Until the end. After I had already run their credit card and returned it to the table, the older gentleman (fatigue-wearer's father) waved me down. 

"Do you have a military discount?"
I told him we did, but it would take several minutes to do and I'd need to re-run his credit card. Usually that discourages people, but not this time. 
"That's okay. We'll wait!"
Fuck. 

So I took the card and got Fester, who first of argued with me and tried to say that you can't so discounts on tickets that were pulled back after being closed. He got even more grumpy when I told him yes you can, you just can't void things. Eventually, be pulled the ticket back and did the discount - for the person in the military, who was not the person who paid - and made the comment "she's not supposed to wearing her uniform in public like that."

So I re-ran the card and returned it to the table, with a copy of their receipt. I continued waiting on my other tables, noticing out of the corner of my eye that the military girl and her parents were all crowded around the receipt and talking to each other in hushed tones. But they didn't stop me as I walked slowly by, so I shrugged it off. 

When I next came out of the kitchen, military mom had cornered Fester and was almost yelling. From across the restaurant I heard her say "that is truly insulting!" and then his reply that "a ten percent discount is insulting?"

Apparently she stormed up to him and demanded to know why that ten percent discount didn't apply to everyone at the table - and then told him it was insulting that her daughter only got ten percent off of her personal food "after all she's been through."

("All she's been through," it turned out, was basic training.)

Fester refused to give the rest of them a discount and when he went back to the kitchen he unloaded about how insulting he found it that this family was trying to use their daughter's military service that way. "They're the kind of people who show on Veteran's Day and think having a kid in the military entitles them to free food!"

I wasn't as pissed as ex-Army Fester, but I was still annoyed. My grandfather was a career soldier and he would never have asked for a military discount. My aunt is in the Navy and my cousin is Army, my best friend's brother is Air Force, etc etc - none of the military people I know would have allowed a family member to make a scene that way. Maybe if they were treating the rest of the family to a meal, they might have asked if it applied to everything - but they'd never demand. 

I'm okay if that family doesn't come back. They left a bad taste in everyone's mouths. 

Logic fail.

Dat gonna be frah, raight?
In our eternal quest to make more money give customers all their options, a lot of us offer breadsticks to customers when they order a salad. It's a teeny, tiny additional charge - but it still counts as a "point" towards our upsells (which is part of what determines our shifts).

I've almost stopped asking, though, because I can't handle the stupid. I would say that nine out of ten people, when I ask, "would you like a breadstick with your salad?" come back at me with: "does it come with it?"

Think about it, folks. If it came with it, would I be asking you if you want it? No. I'd just bring it to you. Just like the tomatoes, or dressing, or what-the-fuck-ever else. I don't ask if you want a straw with your drink but I sure as hell bring you one. I don't ask if you want a napkin with your silverware. Since you're not at an Italian restaurant, we don't just chuck bread at you.

So if I ask if you want a totally separate item with your meal .... you can go ahead and assume it doesn't "come with it."

(Yes. I have my cranky pants on today.)

Monday, July 14, 2014

Go be nauseating in private.

Anyone who has read more than, like, one of my entries should know how I feel about children. In simple terms, I'm not a fan. Waiting on crotchspawn was one of the things I seriously weighed if I could handle before resuming serving. Now of course it isn't the spawn's fault if it doesn't know how to behave in public, it's the parents' failure. Still not pleasant.

That said, it wasn't the spawn that was annoying today - she was too tiny to be anything but defenseless and wrinkly. She was so new I think I could still smell placenta on her. Her head still had a little of that "I was just squeezed out a vagina" cone shape. So I'm guessing this was Mommy and Daddy's first trip out in public with their new burden bundle of joy. And I understand wanting to be out in the world and show off - I wish I could take my dog everywhere with me, she's badass.

So I'm not faulting them for that. However, I am faulting them for sharing one salad between them and then taking up 25% of my section for two hours - and since my section was two booths and two two-seater tables (that nobody ever sits at), in practical terms it was more like 40%.

They weren't even talking to each other. They were just passing the baby back and forth and staring at it in wonderment. No, I'm not kidding. I heard them exchange maybe ten words the entire time. The whole "meal" consisted of mushily staring at their little miracle as they handed her back and forth across the table.

Okay, I get it. You made a little person. You'll have plenty of time to regret that later, but for now? Get the fuck out of my section and go stare at her like lobotomized idiots at home!

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Things I forgot.


  • Accent Girl rolls her silverware crazy weird. I can't even figure out what she does, but it's all lumpy and weird.
  • When Lapdog gets stressed, he fixates on little things. The place can be going to hell and he'll suddenly go on a rampage about why there isn't a bucket of sanitizer out so servers can polish silverware if they have a spare moment.
  • How walking might make you more hot overall, but dear god the breeze it creates is wonderful when you're all damp and sweaty.
  • That Bug's laugh is still completely fucking annoying.
  • The way plates can feel fine when you pick them up, but by the time you get to the table you don't have fingerprints anymore.
  • Just how much goddamn salad dressing people can eat.
  • Bissels suck. 
  • That hostesses seem to be universally brainless once they clock in.
  • How my pillow smells disgusting in the morning if I'm too tired/lazy to shower before bed - actually, it's even worse now because it's a combination of restaurant and pizza.
  • On that note, how my skin feels juuuuuuust slightly sticky until I take a very long, very hot shower.
  • Swamp ass. 'Nuff said.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Hit my stride!

Well, after my first two rough shifts ... I'm back on the horse. I've got the changes to the computer system down, I've now seen all of the new menu items and have gotten them cemented in my mind, and basically, life is good. Oh, not to say I'm perfect. Far from it. I still totally forgot that one guy's ranch and rang in the wrong item for that other woman (why does corporate make the buttons so similiar?). But now that I've got a few more days under my belt .... feeling good!

I'm surprised by how much I'm enjoying it, actually. I mean, my stamina is totally shot - a three hour shift kicks my ass. I can't imagine how bad it would be if I hadn't been doing the pizza thing since August! And the restaurant heat blows as much as ever - but feels good as well. I hate sweating unless it's because I'm doing something productive.

I'm slightly concerned I'll have a lack of stories now that I don't have my bitch on quite as often .....

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Fell on my face again.

I was hoping day two would be better than day one. I had a section right outside the kitchen, which made things easier, but then I also had two tables out on the patio. Everything was moving along smoothly and then I got a woman and her two sons. They were nice enough when I greeted them and they ordered promptly, starting with the youngest son.

"I'll have chicken alfredo," he muttered shyly, not looking directly at me but instead at his closed menu.

"And?" his mother prompted in that "eat your vegetables" tone.

"And, um, a salad." he offered. His brother then ordered a burger and his mother ordered "shrimp linguine, and a salad with ranch" as she handed me her menu. I rang it in, I refilled their drinks, I brought their salads, all the usual stuff. They said their food was great; I fetched them a couple of boxes and gave Mom the bill.

The hostess then told me I'd gotten sat outside, so I scooted out and got their drink order. Came back in and Mom handed me her credit card. I ran it and took her slips back to her, and that was when she decided to ask .....

"Were those the lunch portions?"

Well no, no they weren't lunch portions because they didn't ask for lunch portions. I politely explained this and explained the best way to order next time if they wanted the lunch portions.

"Well, I thought you understood when he pointed at it in his menu," she said. See above re: him looking at the closed menu. But she wasn't snotty about it, so that was nice. I apologized for the confusion, and then, in an effort to avoid a problem like the day before, I went to Lapdog.

"Hey, you might want to stop by table 2. She doesn't seem upset, but she thought they ordered the lunch portions - they didn't - and she said something about it."

"Well, let's fix it." he whipped out his manager card.

"They already ate and paid," I said, expecting that to be the end of it. Oh, no. Lapdog decided he needed to pull back their ticket, change the price of their meals, and charge them the cheaper price. That took a few minutes, and I went to explained the lady what we were doing and said we'd need to run her card again. When I got back to Lapdog, he hadn't finished yet. I tore up the slips that were going to be voided, threw them away, and circled around again - at which point Lapdog asked for the slips I'd just torn up and thrown away.

See, it used to be that we could only void a transaction and re-run the card. Apparently Lapdog has figured out how to alter the charge that was originally entered - but he has to have the numbers off the original slip. So he told me go dig it out of the trash. That was fun, rooting around in the dish pit trash can trying to find bits and pieces of now-wet paper. I didn't find all of it; I didn't find the piece he needed. He lectured me about not throwing it away next time, then let me wash my hands and re-run the woman's card.

(It has just now occurred to me, as I was writing this, that Lapdog and I are both stupid. We could have re-printed the credit slip to get that effing number. But I was so flustered I didn't think of it. Balls.)

I took the new slip out to the lady, who was thankful - we'd saved her a whopping six dollars - and I started trying to re-group and deal with the tables around Mom and her boys. I had re-filled drinks and had just finished bussing Mom's table ($7 tip!) when Lapdog came storming back in the kitchen and hollered, "Who knows something about the table on the patio that didn't get service?"

FUCK.