Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Oh yeah!
The Broncos got fucking humiliated on Sunday--this bodes well for my weekend income from here on out!
Booooooring.
I worked a closing lunch shift today, and it was utterly unremarkable. I had no customers who were particularly pleasant or particularly rude. The most unusual thing that happened was two European-sounding women ordering hot water and not using it to make tea with tea bags brought from home. It was a moderately worthwhile shift, mostly boring. I almost wish I'd had some bastard customers to write about.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
So much for that.
I was in no mood to close tonight after couple of particularly obnoxious tables, so when someone offered I gave her my close. It's now about ten minutes to close and I'm still here. Dammit.
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Saturday, December 27, 2008
Merry Christmas and a happy fuck off.
Like everybody else in the universe, my restaurant sells a fuckton of gift cards in December. I don't know the total, but we've been running a contest and the results are posted, so I know that between the top three people alone there's at least $10,000 in gift card sales. The problem with that is that people who wouldn't otherwise come out to eat ... come out in droves. And they're cheap. If I had a gift card that was paying for 95% of my meal, you can bet I'd be leaving my server a fat tip. Not these white trash weirdos.
The last two days have just sucked for various reasons, some of which had nothing to do with work itself. Some of it was the weirdos coming out of the woodwork--like the lady who asked me for hot water and then told me "I don't know what this is, but I want some water!" She then insisted she didn't ask for hot water--like I would bring her such an obnoxious thing just because. Then there were the table of nine today who literally would not answer me when I asked questions. They would completely ignore me. The basic question "can I get you something to drink?" was met with silence, and staring at each other. After I dragged a drink order after them, they ignored my question about appetizers--only to then demand the manager order them appetizers when he dropped off a beer. When they did finally acknowledge me, everything was a fucking committee decision.
Then there were the nice people who completely stiffed me for no reason I can determine. And the old lady who shook her glass at me across the restaurant and mouthed, in an exaggerated fashion, "CAN I GET SOME MORE WATER?" Her glass? Three-quarters of the way FULL. And all the people today (about half of my customers) who tipped between five and ten percent. And the people who had a coffee and a hot tea, sat with the ticket on their table for an hour or more, and then suddenly jumped up and made the manager take their money--because of course this was one minute after I'd walked by their table, and thirty seconds after I'd started emptying the trash cans.
Today wasn't all bad. I ended up making decent money. I even got in a better mood by the end of the night. But I'll be glad when any lingering taint of the holiday season is gone, because all it seems to do is piss people off, myself included.
The last two days have just sucked for various reasons, some of which had nothing to do with work itself. Some of it was the weirdos coming out of the woodwork--like the lady who asked me for hot water and then told me "I don't know what this is, but I want some water!" She then insisted she didn't ask for hot water--like I would bring her such an obnoxious thing just because. Then there were the table of nine today who literally would not answer me when I asked questions. They would completely ignore me. The basic question "can I get you something to drink?" was met with silence, and staring at each other. After I dragged a drink order after them, they ignored my question about appetizers--only to then demand the manager order them appetizers when he dropped off a beer. When they did finally acknowledge me, everything was a fucking committee decision.
Then there were the nice people who completely stiffed me for no reason I can determine. And the old lady who shook her glass at me across the restaurant and mouthed, in an exaggerated fashion, "CAN I GET SOME MORE WATER?" Her glass? Three-quarters of the way FULL. And all the people today (about half of my customers) who tipped between five and ten percent. And the people who had a coffee and a hot tea, sat with the ticket on their table for an hour or more, and then suddenly jumped up and made the manager take their money--because of course this was one minute after I'd walked by their table, and thirty seconds after I'd started emptying the trash cans.
Today wasn't all bad. I ended up making decent money. I even got in a better mood by the end of the night. But I'll be glad when any lingering taint of the holiday season is gone, because all it seems to do is piss people off, myself included.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Too early for this.
After two and a half lovely days away, plus last weekend's glory, I come back to bitch customers right off the bat.
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Monday, December 22, 2008
I take it back. THIS is why I waitress!
Yesterday took my name and kicked my ass. I slept for fourteen hours when I got home. When I got to work today, my legs still felt rubbery. Basically, we got hit super hard before we had a full staff. At 11:30 we had a waitlist (we had a server come on at 11:45 and two more at noon), and we'd gotten a bunch of big tables: a 15, a 9, an 8, several tables of five and six, etc. At one point I had a nine, a four, a seven, another seven, a two, a four, and another two on the other side of the restaurant. Normally, seven tables wouldn't be too hard for me to handle ... if they were small. As it was, I handled them alright, and nobody had to wait too long for anything, but it wasn't spectacular service. I'll be honest, I was sort of panicked a couple of times. Remembering the drinks and orders and special requests of 35 people was a bit of a challenge. It slowed down after that intial explosion, but I had at least 3 tables all day until the very end of the night--even during the Broncos game, when we're usually totally dead.
Luckily, the guys in the kitchen won at life yesterday. I forgot to look at my end number of tables, but from my sales I'd guess I had at least 100 meals go out yesterday, and only one problem--and that was a very little problem, and not caused by the cooks (expo sent out the wrong sandwich, but the right one was ready so it was an instant fix). Also, the servers who came in later were able to run food for those of us dying earlier on.
I was also very lucky in my customers (with two cheap, less than 10% exceptions, but fuck them, right?): even the ones who got bare-bones service due to the explosion were good to me. My very best tip was from the parents of a coworker: $17! I even double-checked that they really meant to give me the balance on the gift card--they were very nice. More than I deserved, probably, considering I kept making sarcastic comments to their son!
At any rate, yesterday is why I waitress: for those rare days when the stars align, and the food comes out right, the customers are friendly, the place is never empty ... those rare days, when after tipping out $17 and spending $10 on food, I leave with $220.
Hot damn, I might actually have a chance at making rent this month.
Luckily, the guys in the kitchen won at life yesterday. I forgot to look at my end number of tables, but from my sales I'd guess I had at least 100 meals go out yesterday, and only one problem--and that was a very little problem, and not caused by the cooks (expo sent out the wrong sandwich, but the right one was ready so it was an instant fix). Also, the servers who came in later were able to run food for those of us dying earlier on.
I was also very lucky in my customers (with two cheap, less than 10% exceptions, but fuck them, right?): even the ones who got bare-bones service due to the explosion were good to me. My very best tip was from the parents of a coworker: $17! I even double-checked that they really meant to give me the balance on the gift card--they were very nice. More than I deserved, probably, considering I kept making sarcastic comments to their son!
At any rate, yesterday is why I waitress: for those rare days when the stars align, and the food comes out right, the customers are friendly, the place is never empty ... those rare days, when after tipping out $17 and spending $10 on food, I leave with $220.
Hot damn, I might actually have a chance at making rent this month.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
This is why I waitress!
$150 today, after tipping out two bartenders and buying two meals. I realize that there are people who work in fancy-schmancy restaurants that probably make that on a Monday night, rather than a Saturday double, but I'm quite happy with it. :)
$20 of it was from one table, a two top with a bill of $60. I guess they liked me. :)
$20 of it was from one table, a two top with a bill of $60. I guess they liked me. :)
Friday, December 19, 2008
What's worse than going to work?
Going to work with aching sinuses, shooting neck pains, a vague burning sensation in your stomach, occasional random gagging, and a general bloated, painful feeling throughout your abdomen. Oh yeah, this is gonna be great.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
You've got to be kidding me.
I just had someone hand me their cash as they left, all smiles ... And gone before I got back to the register and saw it was ten dollars short. Thanks! I wanted to pay for your beers!
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Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Feeling alright today.
I thought I'd be irritable as fuck, but today I'm just amused by the general weirdness of people. :)
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Monday, December 15, 2008
Escape! Escape!
I let someone pick up my dinner shift tonight. I really shouldn't have; I can't afford to lose the money. But I just could not face going in to work today. Yesterday just sucked all my energy away. A lot of it was me being unreasonably cranky because I'm off my Prozac, but some of it was people being genuine twats as well. I worked six days last week; I was scheduled for six days this week; so today, instead, I chose sanity.
Sadly, while sleeping late, I had another fucking work dream. All I remember is that I had a customer who wants our soup and salad combo, but instead of the soup she wanted hot wings. And then somehow that turned in to the cooks deep-frying a cucumber in hot sauce. What?
Sadly, while sleeping late, I had another fucking work dream. All I remember is that I had a customer who wants our soup and salad combo, but instead of the soup she wanted hot wings. And then somehow that turned in to the cooks deep-frying a cucumber in hot sauce. What?
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Fuckin fuckers (remix)
it's nice that you're an idiot and ordered hot tea and ice water. But the high point of my day had to be you ordering the same for your three friends.
Oh! You're sharing a meal, too? Hot damn!
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Fuckin fuckers, part 2
Sixteen trips to your table. Putting up with your incessant jokes about getting things free. Having your legs stick into the aisle to trip everyone. Sixteen. Goddamn. Trips.
Ten percent. Stick it up your ass. Or your urethra. Dumb hillbilly fuck.
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Fuckin fuckers
With their fucking hot tea! Fuck you!
Not a good day.
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Saturday, December 13, 2008
Your face is fine. Put a bag over that personality.
I've had the distinct displeasure the last two days of working with some truly unpleasant. E's the kind of person who thinks that being a size 2 and pretty means she can treat the people around her like shit. I've rarely met someone so rude and fake.
Mostly, I've tried to ignore her the last several months working at this place. Since she ignores everyone except a very small, select group of people, that wasn't hard. Yesterday I nearly punched her, though, and I'm honestly not prone to violence.
It started with a simple sneeze. Or eight of them, actually, as I'm a chain sneezer. I was ringing in an order, and E came up and started using the computer next to me. At this point, several hours into the night, she had yet to say a word to me. Even when I said hello. She looked over my head as if I were completely invisible.
So anyway, I started sneezing. Unfortunately, as I sneezed more and more, I was concentrating more on not dropping the plates in my left hand than I was on keeping an airtight seal on my face. Basically, somewhere around sneeze six, E apparently felt some sort of spray. These were dry allergy sneezes, so I don't even know what she thought she felt.
Now I'm not saying she should be jumping for joy--obviously, it's gross. Most people, I would've sincerely apologized. But when she dramatically proclaimed "EUCCCCHHH! YOU SPRAYED ON ME!" while arching her body away from me and glaring at me like I'd just infected her with the bubonic fucking plague, I felt she was being a little ridiculous.
"Sorry, I can't help sneezing!"
"Well you could have covered your mouth better!" And she flounces away.
"And you could not be such a bitch, too." Came out of my mouth before I really thought about it. I don't know if she heard me or not. But for the rest of the night, she continued to be ruder than usual--walking right in front of me, nearly hitting me in the face with something she was carrying, etc.
I was prepared to let it go today, but she continued being a twat. V was expediting, and E comes into the kitchen and asks where her food is. As far as I could tell, it wasn't overdue in the least. Then I hear "They don't even have bread down for it? WHAT THE FUCK, V!" (Unfortunately, I got a case of staircase wit and didn't come up with a response until later.) I was too busy being astounded as E exchanged dark, meaningful looks with one of the jackass cooks, mouthing things about how V is incompetent. Of course, V turned around and E slightly belatedly gave her a big grimacey smile.
It was just shit like that all day. The person I shared sidework with asked E to check it, and she tried to argue with me about parmesan cheese par--I work 5-6 days a week, she works two and is never a first cut, so never gets that particular sidework. I was just ready to scream at her. And she gets away with shit with the managers too--like not showering before she came in today. Like not getting her sidework checked before bolting for the night. Like working less than the minimum "required" number of shifts. Like talking work-related shit about one of the bartenders to a customer. Some of that other people who've been there a long time get away with too, so I don't think it's specifically because of her looks, but that is the attitude she has about it.
It drives me nuts. Being a size two, and six feet tall, and having artfully bleached hair, does not entitle you to special priviledges. Neither does being "pretty"--especially when you always have a nasty sneer on your face because you're soooo much better than the people around you.
I hope she's not working tomorrow. I might lose my cool.
Mostly, I've tried to ignore her the last several months working at this place. Since she ignores everyone except a very small, select group of people, that wasn't hard. Yesterday I nearly punched her, though, and I'm honestly not prone to violence.
It started with a simple sneeze. Or eight of them, actually, as I'm a chain sneezer. I was ringing in an order, and E came up and started using the computer next to me. At this point, several hours into the night, she had yet to say a word to me. Even when I said hello. She looked over my head as if I were completely invisible.
So anyway, I started sneezing. Unfortunately, as I sneezed more and more, I was concentrating more on not dropping the plates in my left hand than I was on keeping an airtight seal on my face. Basically, somewhere around sneeze six, E apparently felt some sort of spray. These were dry allergy sneezes, so I don't even know what she thought she felt.
Now I'm not saying she should be jumping for joy--obviously, it's gross. Most people, I would've sincerely apologized. But when she dramatically proclaimed "EUCCCCHHH! YOU SPRAYED ON ME!" while arching her body away from me and glaring at me like I'd just infected her with the bubonic fucking plague, I felt she was being a little ridiculous.
"Sorry, I can't help sneezing!"
"Well you could have covered your mouth better!" And she flounces away.
"And you could not be such a bitch, too." Came out of my mouth before I really thought about it. I don't know if she heard me or not. But for the rest of the night, she continued to be ruder than usual--walking right in front of me, nearly hitting me in the face with something she was carrying, etc.
I was prepared to let it go today, but she continued being a twat. V was expediting, and E comes into the kitchen and asks where her food is. As far as I could tell, it wasn't overdue in the least. Then I hear "They don't even have bread down for it? WHAT THE FUCK, V!" (Unfortunately, I got a case of staircase wit and didn't come up with a response until later.) I was too busy being astounded as E exchanged dark, meaningful looks with one of the jackass cooks, mouthing things about how V is incompetent. Of course, V turned around and E slightly belatedly gave her a big grimacey smile.
It was just shit like that all day. The person I shared sidework with asked E to check it, and she tried to argue with me about parmesan cheese par--I work 5-6 days a week, she works two and is never a first cut, so never gets that particular sidework. I was just ready to scream at her. And she gets away with shit with the managers too--like not showering before she came in today. Like not getting her sidework checked before bolting for the night. Like working less than the minimum "required" number of shifts. Like talking work-related shit about one of the bartenders to a customer. Some of that other people who've been there a long time get away with too, so I don't think it's specifically because of her looks, but that is the attitude she has about it.
It drives me nuts. Being a size two, and six feet tall, and having artfully bleached hair, does not entitle you to special priviledges. Neither does being "pretty"--especially when you always have a nasty sneer on your face because you're soooo much better than the people around you.
I hope she's not working tomorrow. I might lose my cool.
What a start!
A single woman, cranky old ladies, and foreigners. Wow!
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Niiiiiiiice!
Holy fuck, I made $103 tonight! After tip-out and dinner! FUCK YEAH!
How I managed this on a slower than average Friday night, with a three table section, I'm not totally sure. But FUCK YEAH!
How I managed this on a slower than average Friday night, with a three table section, I'm not totally sure. But FUCK YEAH!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Yesterday just left a bad taste in my mouth.
I just really don't want to go to work today. I'm trying to shrug off the cranky feeling, but it's not working so well. I feel like screaming and punching things just thinking about going to work.
The lengths people go to, part II
If you'd like your faith in humanity further eroded, check out this post at Well Done Fillet. Even worse than my story a couple posts down! People can be such douchehounds.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
An unexpectedly bad day.
I felt okay when I got to work today. I wasn't exactly thrilled to be there--why doesn't this spell check like any contractions today?--but it was alright. And then, one little thing, which was my own fault, set me off.
I'd taken a table on the opposite side of the restaurant from my section, because I happened to be walking by and saw that they hadn't been approached yet. They were fine, friendly and all. The problem happened when they gave me $50.25 for their $20.12 bill. I had no change, so I had to bother the bartender for it. However, my brain short-circuited and I instead of asking her to give me change for the quarter, I asked for $49 in bills and $1 in change. Which totally screwed me up. In the meantime, I'd gotten another table in addition to the two I already had on the OTHER side of the restaurant from these people. I was so flustered when I went to get their change that I totally counted it back wrong and looked like a big idiot. Twice.
After that, I was starting to get back into the swing of things. Everyone was there, we were in regular sections, I was only on one side of the restaurant, everything was fine. Until I was carrying my table's dinner out, just one plate in each hand, and something happened. I don't know exactly what; I think I might've bumped into the wall, but I'm not sure. At any rate, the plate in my right hand hit the tiles two feet in front of me. Quite loudly.
I tossed the other plate back in the window, told the cooks I needed another medium steak ... and burst into tears. It wasn't that the steak was a big deal; I was just so damned frustrated with myself. I went out back and took a few deep breaths, and then tried to go about my business. But after that, every little thing just set my teeth on edge. Every time I was in the kitchen I was grinding my teeth, or ranting to my coworkers, or just grumbling under my breath.
Then, then! I got cut from the floor right after getting two new tables. One of them I transferred as they were waiting for another two. The other I kept, since I had a table of campers--and they were awesome, those campers, who of whom claimed to have worked at this restaurant before, yet they hung around and left a crummy tip. I couldn't do my sidework, because it depended on someone else's work being done and checked, and there's this one closer who INSISTS that she checks that sidework, and has an absolute fucking conniption if anyone else checks it. But of course she was just SO BUSY, mostly bitching about the host, that she never checked them out. I couldn't roll silverware, because other people were taking up all the counter space. I couldn't clean my front of house because the tables were sat.
I didn't get out of there until 30 minutes after the restaurant closed. And I wasn't a closer. I ate something, bite by bite in between tasks, but it kept pissing me off more. We have a new dessert, and I'd been looking forward to having it all day, but couldn't get it because by the time Ig ot everything else done, including my hastily scarfed dinner, the kitchen was closed. A small thing, to be sure, but it sent me out the door still in a bad goddamn mood.
It was just one of those days where nothing bad really happened, but I just couldn't get out of my bad mood and everything every customer said to me made me want to punch them. I guess I faked happy well, though, because I made $70. Yippee!
I'd taken a table on the opposite side of the restaurant from my section, because I happened to be walking by and saw that they hadn't been approached yet. They were fine, friendly and all. The problem happened when they gave me $50.25 for their $20.12 bill. I had no change, so I had to bother the bartender for it. However, my brain short-circuited and I instead of asking her to give me change for the quarter, I asked for $49 in bills and $1 in change. Which totally screwed me up. In the meantime, I'd gotten another table in addition to the two I already had on the OTHER side of the restaurant from these people. I was so flustered when I went to get their change that I totally counted it back wrong and looked like a big idiot. Twice.
After that, I was starting to get back into the swing of things. Everyone was there, we were in regular sections, I was only on one side of the restaurant, everything was fine. Until I was carrying my table's dinner out, just one plate in each hand, and something happened. I don't know exactly what; I think I might've bumped into the wall, but I'm not sure. At any rate, the plate in my right hand hit the tiles two feet in front of me. Quite loudly.
I tossed the other plate back in the window, told the cooks I needed another medium steak ... and burst into tears. It wasn't that the steak was a big deal; I was just so damned frustrated with myself. I went out back and took a few deep breaths, and then tried to go about my business. But after that, every little thing just set my teeth on edge. Every time I was in the kitchen I was grinding my teeth, or ranting to my coworkers, or just grumbling under my breath.
Then, then! I got cut from the floor right after getting two new tables. One of them I transferred as they were waiting for another two. The other I kept, since I had a table of campers--and they were awesome, those campers, who of whom claimed to have worked at this restaurant before, yet they hung around and left a crummy tip. I couldn't do my sidework, because it depended on someone else's work being done and checked, and there's this one closer who INSISTS that she checks that sidework, and has an absolute fucking conniption if anyone else checks it. But of course she was just SO BUSY, mostly bitching about the host, that she never checked them out. I couldn't roll silverware, because other people were taking up all the counter space. I couldn't clean my front of house because the tables were sat.
I didn't get out of there until 30 minutes after the restaurant closed. And I wasn't a closer. I ate something, bite by bite in between tasks, but it kept pissing me off more. We have a new dessert, and I'd been looking forward to having it all day, but couldn't get it because by the time Ig ot everything else done, including my hastily scarfed dinner, the kitchen was closed. A small thing, to be sure, but it sent me out the door still in a bad goddamn mood.
It was just one of those days where nothing bad really happened, but I just couldn't get out of my bad mood and everything every customer said to me made me want to punch them. I guess I faked happy well, though, because I made $70. Yippee!
The ridiculous lengths people go to.
This happened to another server at my old restaurant; I almost couldn't believe it.
A guy came in, carrying a birthday present, and asked for a table for three. After waiting alone for a little while, he told his server that the people meeting him were running late, but he was really hungry, so he was going to order. He orders our most expensive meal (not that it's that expensive, but still), and leisurely eats. He chats with his waitress, seems like a nice friendly guy. Eventually, he tells his server he's going out for a smoke, but would like to order a dessert. He tells the hostess he'll be right back and goes outside, leaving the wrapped birthday gift and card on the table.
Yep, he never comes back. After half an hour, his confused server goes to clear the table. When she moves the wrapped box, she notices it's very, very light ... it's empty. The card isn't sealed, and when she pulled it out, it said inside "better luck next time".
Who the fuck takes PROPS to a dine-and-dash?
(edit: check out Well Done Fillet for more shady fuckers)
A guy came in, carrying a birthday present, and asked for a table for three. After waiting alone for a little while, he told his server that the people meeting him were running late, but he was really hungry, so he was going to order. He orders our most expensive meal (not that it's that expensive, but still), and leisurely eats. He chats with his waitress, seems like a nice friendly guy. Eventually, he tells his server he's going out for a smoke, but would like to order a dessert. He tells the hostess he'll be right back and goes outside, leaving the wrapped birthday gift and card on the table.
Yep, he never comes back. After half an hour, his confused server goes to clear the table. When she moves the wrapped box, she notices it's very, very light ... it's empty. The card isn't sealed, and when she pulled it out, it said inside "better luck next time".
Who the fuck takes PROPS to a dine-and-dash?
(edit: check out Well Done Fillet for more shady fuckers)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
My grandma is a Bad Customer.
Last Friday I went out to lunch with my grandma, and realized that she really is the kind of person I'd hate to wait on. She answers "how are you?" with "I'd like iced tea with lemon". When asked if she's ready to order, she doesn't say "yes". She just says "I want the ...." even if the server has their hands full. It's a little thing, but it drives me nuts when people just dive into their order without me having a second to get out my notepad. Should I approach with my notepad out? Then people think I'm rushing them.
My grandma never says please or thank you. She never sets her plate to the side when she's done. On the other hand, she never rattles her glass at a server, snaps, whistles, etc., so I'm grateful for that. I'm not so grateful for the fact that she complains to whomever she's with.
When we went to lunch the other day, we went to a 50s-throwback burger joint. First, she was a little rude to our server. Everybody there has what are obviously fake names on their nametags ... but apparently she doesn't get it, because she looks at him, ignores his greeting, and asks, "How did you get a name like Cadillac?"
We ordered our drinks ("water AND" for my grandma), but when the nice waiter came back she didn't know yet what she wanted. So we ordered fried muchrooms (um, YUM!). About four minutes later, the waiter took our food order. We sat and talked; and we happened to be right by the kitchen, so I heard when one of the waitresses called to the cooks "Can I get fried mushrooms? They're on ten minutes." Thirty second after that, my grandma grumbles that our waiter is sure slow on those mushrooms.
If it'd been anybody else, I might've just gone off on them. It made me so mad. But I just quietly told her that it was in the cooks' hands now, and the waiter had nothing to do with it. She didn't seem to be listening. Thirty seconds after that, we had mushrooms. Now, if we'd ordered all at once, maybe 11 minutes to get our appetizer would've been long. But when you think about it, we'd only really put our menus down six minutes ago when we ordered our burgers, which I think is when most people would've subconsciously started the clock.
When he dropped off our food, our server told us very nicely that he would be taking a break, and Daisy would get us anything we needed. We started eating, and not too long after, the guy who greeted us asked how things were (manager type). His name tag said "Jughead". My grandma, again, doesn't answer his question and says, "You don't look like a Daisy!" Of course, "Jughead" had no idea what she was talking about--but my grandma is one of those people who thinks if you work in the restaurant, you know everything going on everywhere.
The rest of the meal was uneventful; but when the check came, she didn't ask me what to tip like she's been doing lately. I started stacking and organizing our plates so I had a line of sight to the check, and saw that she was leaving slightly less than ten percent! I debated whether to say something, but knew it wouldn't do any good. Luckily, I had cash in my pocket, so I tossed it on the table after my grandma had gotten up.
There was one time when I met her somewhere and she did that, and I didn't have any cash. She had to leave right away, so I pretending I was going shopping and walked across the mall parking lot to get to an ATM. Then I came back, got change from the bartender, and tracked down our server to give her a decent tip. At least she's better than my other grandma, who once left one of my coworkers a dollar on $30.
Anyway, I realized that day that my grandma really is the kind of person who would get under my skin if I were to wait on her. It's not that she's terrible and rude, or even super demanding ... it's just the little things like not answering questions, combined with being a subpar tipper. I didn't really realize it until I viewed our lunch experience through the lens of my job.
My grandma never says please or thank you. She never sets her plate to the side when she's done. On the other hand, she never rattles her glass at a server, snaps, whistles, etc., so I'm grateful for that. I'm not so grateful for the fact that she complains to whomever she's with.
When we went to lunch the other day, we went to a 50s-throwback burger joint. First, she was a little rude to our server. Everybody there has what are obviously fake names on their nametags ... but apparently she doesn't get it, because she looks at him, ignores his greeting, and asks, "How did you get a name like Cadillac?"
We ordered our drinks ("water AND" for my grandma), but when the nice waiter came back she didn't know yet what she wanted. So we ordered fried muchrooms (um, YUM!). About four minutes later, the waiter took our food order. We sat and talked; and we happened to be right by the kitchen, so I heard when one of the waitresses called to the cooks "Can I get fried mushrooms? They're on ten minutes." Thirty second after that, my grandma grumbles that our waiter is sure slow on those mushrooms.
If it'd been anybody else, I might've just gone off on them. It made me so mad. But I just quietly told her that it was in the cooks' hands now, and the waiter had nothing to do with it. She didn't seem to be listening. Thirty seconds after that, we had mushrooms. Now, if we'd ordered all at once, maybe 11 minutes to get our appetizer would've been long. But when you think about it, we'd only really put our menus down six minutes ago when we ordered our burgers, which I think is when most people would've subconsciously started the clock.
When he dropped off our food, our server told us very nicely that he would be taking a break, and Daisy would get us anything we needed. We started eating, and not too long after, the guy who greeted us asked how things were (manager type). His name tag said "Jughead". My grandma, again, doesn't answer his question and says, "You don't look like a Daisy!" Of course, "Jughead" had no idea what she was talking about--but my grandma is one of those people who thinks if you work in the restaurant, you know everything going on everywhere.
The rest of the meal was uneventful; but when the check came, she didn't ask me what to tip like she's been doing lately. I started stacking and organizing our plates so I had a line of sight to the check, and saw that she was leaving slightly less than ten percent! I debated whether to say something, but knew it wouldn't do any good. Luckily, I had cash in my pocket, so I tossed it on the table after my grandma had gotten up.
There was one time when I met her somewhere and she did that, and I didn't have any cash. She had to leave right away, so I pretending I was going shopping and walked across the mall parking lot to get to an ATM. Then I came back, got change from the bartender, and tracked down our server to give her a decent tip. At least she's better than my other grandma, who once left one of my coworkers a dollar on $30.
Anyway, I realized that day that my grandma really is the kind of person who would get under my skin if I were to wait on her. It's not that she's terrible and rude, or even super demanding ... it's just the little things like not answering questions, combined with being a subpar tipper. I didn't really realize it until I viewed our lunch experience through the lens of my job.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Nothing to bitch about!
Tonight was pleasant enough. Not terribly busy. Not terribly slow. The only customer I had that really stuck out was this guy with a long beard, braided into two braids, who gave me the heebie jeebies. The one who took thirty seconds to read my name tag. Yeah.
I worked a double yesterday, and I think I had something to say about that ... but apparently it wasn't important enough to remember it.
I did have a dream about work today. Yes, today, not last night. I slept the day away (after my exam), and it was beautiful. Anyway, I had a dream about work, but it wasn't a typical work dream. Usually, I dream that I'm the only server, and the entire place is full, and people are angry and everything is going wrong. This one was very detailed; I know which section I was in and everything. I even remember the customers, because they were real customers! It actually might be the work sort of work dream to have. The hellish ones, it's easy to separate from reality. I know I've never worked in a restaurant where I have to climb a ladder while carrying trays, after all.
But the dreams that are just a normal day ... they just blend in to the mental background of the rest of my work days, and make it feel like I've been there longer than I have, like I never got a break
I worked a double yesterday, and I think I had something to say about that ... but apparently it wasn't important enough to remember it.
I did have a dream about work today. Yes, today, not last night. I slept the day away (after my exam), and it was beautiful. Anyway, I had a dream about work, but it wasn't a typical work dream. Usually, I dream that I'm the only server, and the entire place is full, and people are angry and everything is going wrong. This one was very detailed; I know which section I was in and everything. I even remember the customers, because they were real customers! It actually might be the work sort of work dream to have. The hellish ones, it's easy to separate from reality. I know I've never worked in a restaurant where I have to climb a ladder while carrying trays, after all.
But the dreams that are just a normal day ... they just blend in to the mental background of the rest of my work days, and make it feel like I've been there longer than I have, like I never got a break
I know you think you're sneaky.
But it doesn't take thirty seconds to read my nametag, perv.
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Sunday, December 7, 2008
Should've napped.
I tried to study between shifts, but kept falling asleep reading. I should have just gone to my car for a nap. I don't feel enthusiastic at all about tonight's shift-i just want it over with so I can go home and sleep for a few hours before staying up studying the rest of the night.
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Rant of the hour
If you're "so cold!" you're ordering coffee, why do you ask for ice water too?
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That's a funny way to be.
Maybe it was just my mom who raised me to think that if someone asks how you are, it's polite to respond. But some of the answers I get at work ... I have to stop myself from being a smartass.
Me: "Hi folks! How are you tonight?"
Rude lady: "Do you have happy hour now?"
Me: "Hello, how's everyone today?"
At least one person, every day: "Iced tea."
Me: "Hello! How are you?"
Again, at least one person every day: "(silent stares INTO MY SOUL)"
Me: "How are you?"
"Water."
Me: "How are you?"
Some middle aged woman who'll order "just water" and a half sized salad with dressing on the side and don't you have any bread?, while pointing at the three other menus in front of empty chairs: "We have three more coming."
Me: "How are you?"
"Don't you have a booth?"
How are you? Water. No ice. How are you? Don't you have (item that was taken off the menu three years ago)? How are you? Last time I was here my steak was cold. How are you? I want to see (some damn sports game). How are you? We need more silverware.
How are you? You're iced tea? You don't look like it. You do, however, look like someone whose momma didn't teach you any manners.
And you? Oh, you're hungry! Ha ha ha! I've never heard that before! Oh, you're tired? Would you like some coffee? No? Then what the fuck do you expect me to do about it! Honestly? We're strangers. I'm asking within the confines of my job. I don't really want to know, beyond trying to get a feeling for how to serve you--leisurely, rushed, don't interrupt, etc.
I'm not actually seriously annoyed about this, I was just thinking about it. I think it's fairly amusing. Equally amusing is when I ask someone what they want to drink and they respond with something like "steak medium well".
Me: "Hi folks! How are you tonight?"
Rude lady: "Do you have happy hour now?"
Me: "Hello, how's everyone today?"
At least one person, every day: "Iced tea."
Me: "Hello! How are you?"
Again, at least one person every day: "(silent stares INTO MY SOUL)"
Me: "How are you?"
"Water."
Me: "How are you?"
Some middle aged woman who'll order "just water" and a half sized salad with dressing on the side and don't you have any bread?, while pointing at the three other menus in front of empty chairs: "We have three more coming."
Me: "How are you?"
"Don't you have a booth?"
How are you? Water. No ice. How are you? Don't you have (item that was taken off the menu three years ago)? How are you? Last time I was here my steak was cold. How are you? I want to see (some damn sports game). How are you? We need more silverware.
How are you? You're iced tea? You don't look like it. You do, however, look like someone whose momma didn't teach you any manners.
And you? Oh, you're hungry! Ha ha ha! I've never heard that before! Oh, you're tired? Would you like some coffee? No? Then what the fuck do you expect me to do about it! Honestly? We're strangers. I'm asking within the confines of my job. I don't really want to know, beyond trying to get a feeling for how to serve you--leisurely, rushed, don't interrupt, etc.
I'm not actually seriously annoyed about this, I was just thinking about it. I think it's fairly amusing. Equally amusing is when I ask someone what they want to drink and they respond with something like "steak medium well".
"Waiting" is on!
But dammit, it's edited. It's just not the same without hearing Naomi scream that she fucking hates fucking foreigners.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
The best table I've had in a long time.
I was determined to go in to work with a good attitude. I was in at four, and was a first cut, so that meant I wouldn't come in at five to a section full of other peoples' tables, and I would be done after the dinner rush. I thought it was all going to go downhill as soon as I got there and saw that three out of my four tables were pushed together and sat with somebody else's groups. So I spent my first hour being grumpy, and having one table. Then the people left! Hooray! My three tables then got sat, and everybody was friendly and nice.
Then one of them left, and after cleaning it I returned to find it was gone. The whole table. They'd dragged it to another server's section because they had another big table. Ahrg! Down to two four-seater hightop tables and one lower round table that could seat up to seven. Luckily, I didn't have any campers or I'd've been screwed.
However, what really made my night was my seven top at my big round table. They were nice, and polite, and made it easy to wait on them--the ones I couldn't reach didn't hesitate to pass me glasses and empty plates, etc. We didn't chat a whole lot, it wasn't a really talkative table (at least not with me), but they were just nice. And then, the man who paid left me $30 on a $100 tab! He also talked to the manager and told them what a good job I did. Yeah!
Overall I made $73 after tip out, which was 20% of my sales. If I had more nights like this, this blog wouldn't even exist.
Then one of them left, and after cleaning it I returned to find it was gone. The whole table. They'd dragged it to another server's section because they had another big table. Ahrg! Down to two four-seater hightop tables and one lower round table that could seat up to seven. Luckily, I didn't have any campers or I'd've been screwed.
However, what really made my night was my seven top at my big round table. They were nice, and polite, and made it easy to wait on them--the ones I couldn't reach didn't hesitate to pass me glasses and empty plates, etc. We didn't chat a whole lot, it wasn't a really talkative table (at least not with me), but they were just nice. And then, the man who paid left me $30 on a $100 tab! He also talked to the manager and told them what a good job I did. Yeah!
Overall I made $73 after tip out, which was 20% of my sales. If I had more nights like this, this blog wouldn't even exist.
Question for the ages
Why will my feet feel perfectly fine until the second I clock in, and then every step will be ankle-crunching agony?
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The "there's a world around you" concept.
One of the things that irritates me the absolute most at work is people who just have no sense of what's around them. This goes for customers and co-workers ... but moreso coworkers. Friday and Saturday nights, when we have twelve servers, three hosts, two bartenders, an expo, and two managers all running around and passing through the kitchen at some point, you just have to be aware of your surroundings. Hell, even slow days when there's half that amount of people. But I can't tell you how many times I'll be walking through the kitchen, and somebody I'm about to pass with take a sidestep directly in front of me. I don't mean I'm several steps away--I mean I'm within their "personal space" and they're so clueless they just run in to me. Or someone who's walking in front of me with not only suddenly stop, but start backing in to me. Or customers who will, without warning and without looking, suddenly stick their limbs out into the aisle, or jump up from their tables. I've gotten smacked a number of times by widely gesticulating customers; I've had plates of food knocks out of my hands by these people.
Now I know we all do that sort of thing sometimes. I've bumped in to people plenty of times, but generally speaking, I know when there are people around me! I don't spend my time looking around and over my shoulder for them, but I know they're there. I'm aware of noise, and changes in the shadows, and I guess sometimes air currents too or something. And because it's just something I'm aware of, it mystifies me how so many other people seem to have zero awareness of the world around them.
And I know that if I have personal space issues, I'm in the wrong business. Anybody out there considering taking up restaurant work, let that be a warning: you will be touched. Kitchens are never wide enough, and people will brush against you all the time because there's just not enough space. And I don't always mean shoulder-brushing, either. I get elbowed in the tits at least once a day. People trying to squeeze through small spaces with their hands by their sides will touch your ass in a completely non-sexual way. Of course, sometimes it's intentional; I don't know what it is about restaurants that attracts people with dirty minds, but every place I've worked at has been rampant with what most people who probably consider sexual harassment but for us it's just good fun.
So I have very little in the way of personal space boundaries at work. But don't knock me into a wall and slop water all over me because you didn't think any one of the twenty employees in the kitchen might have been within five feet of you.
Now I know we all do that sort of thing sometimes. I've bumped in to people plenty of times, but generally speaking, I know when there are people around me! I don't spend my time looking around and over my shoulder for them, but I know they're there. I'm aware of noise, and changes in the shadows, and I guess sometimes air currents too or something. And because it's just something I'm aware of, it mystifies me how so many other people seem to have zero awareness of the world around them.
And I know that if I have personal space issues, I'm in the wrong business. Anybody out there considering taking up restaurant work, let that be a warning: you will be touched. Kitchens are never wide enough, and people will brush against you all the time because there's just not enough space. And I don't always mean shoulder-brushing, either. I get elbowed in the tits at least once a day. People trying to squeeze through small spaces with their hands by their sides will touch your ass in a completely non-sexual way. Of course, sometimes it's intentional; I don't know what it is about restaurants that attracts people with dirty minds, but every place I've worked at has been rampant with what most people who probably consider sexual harassment but for us it's just good fun.
So I have very little in the way of personal space boundaries at work. But don't knock me into a wall and slop water all over me because you didn't think any one of the twenty employees in the kitchen might have been within five feet of you.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Aw, hell.
Of all the stupid things to forget to ring in: a medium well steak. Not related to the previous post, different table. I wouldn't even blame them for stiffing me ... Except it was about a five minute delay, and they kept saying it was fine, no big deal, etc. If they'd just said they were pissed or acted like it, I wouldn't have dared to hope.
Actually, I guess one of them did say something. It was the husband's steak that I forgot; he kept telling me it was fine and waving me off when I apologized, and he told the manager they were fine--and of course his steak was free. His wife, though, was kind of bitchy. She and their daughter had their food, so on my first check-back I looked directly at them, NOT THE GUY WITH NO FOOD, and asked "how's your dinner?" Rather than tell me her salad was fine, or whatever, she snidely says "Well, HE wouldn't know."
What?
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Actually, I guess one of them did say something. It was the husband's steak that I forgot; he kept telling me it was fine and waving me off when I apologized, and he told the manager they were fine--and of course his steak was free. His wife, though, was kind of bitchy. She and their daughter had their food, so on my first check-back I looked directly at them, NOT THE GUY WITH NO FOOD, and asked "how's your dinner?" Rather than tell me her salad was fine, or whatever, she snidely says "Well, HE wouldn't know."
What?
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Common sense?
Don't order a medium well sirloin and then glare at me when it doesn't appear in five minutes. It doesn't come off the cow that way you know. Not even if you waited five minutes to be sat.
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Holy hell, a good day!
Tonight's shift was quite nice. Some of that was because of the addition of cake--when people found out it was my birthday, and I sarcastically pretended to be upset I didn't have a cake like some other people have recently, one of the managers actually sneaked out and got me one. And then I got a really loud, frankly sort of obnoxious serenading by my coworkers. I could feel my face turning red--I don't really like to be sung to. But it's was sort of nice to have the people I seem to spend most of my time with acknowledge my uterine explusion day.
Nearly all the people working tonight were sort of friends, including my potential roommate. The two most fun managers were there. I had friendly tables, easy orders, no problems or complaints, and good percentage tips. It was sort of slow, so I only left with $35 after dinner and tip-out, but for a low-pressure, low-stress, snowy winter evening, that was okay. I am content.
Oh, and then there was the part where I kinda flashed a number of my coworkers. It was an accident!
Nearly all the people working tonight were sort of friends, including my potential roommate. The two most fun managers were there. I had friendly tables, easy orders, no problems or complaints, and good percentage tips. It was sort of slow, so I only left with $35 after dinner and tip-out, but for a low-pressure, low-stress, snowy winter evening, that was okay. I am content.
Oh, and then there was the part where I kinda flashed a number of my coworkers. It was an accident!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
I wonder if anybody noticed ....
So there's a poster that got put up at work yesterday, for the corporate "open door policy" about problems. At the top it says "Gotta problem? Resolve it".
I couldn't help myself.
I fought off the impulse for hours. Every time I walked into the kitchen, I giggled.
Eventually, I wrote two little words, just "Yo, I'll" on a piece of paper, and then taped that across the "re" in resolve".
Nobody got it that night. I kept waiting for somebody to drop some mad '90s white boy raps, but I waited in vain.
I couldn't help myself.
I fought off the impulse for hours. Every time I walked into the kitchen, I giggled.
Eventually, I wrote two little words, just "Yo, I'll" on a piece of paper, and then taped that across the "re" in resolve".
Nobody got it that night. I kept waiting for somebody to drop some mad '90s white boy raps, but I waited in vain.
Random ...
On April 26, 2006, I worked from 4:37 to 8:15 PM. Why I felt the need to print this time slip, and how it ended up in a box of shoebox full of random shit that I never unpacked at my old apartment and just emptied now ... well, that's just a mystery.
But I did find, in that box, my pin that says "One by one, the penguins steal my sanity". Wonder how long I could wear that at work before a manager noticed.
But I did find, in that box, my pin that says "One by one, the penguins steal my sanity". Wonder how long I could wear that at work before a manager noticed.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
You're allergic to butter?
(I've been getting a lot of search engine hits from this, and I'd just like to point out that I am not cranky at people who actually have health conditions or allergies! In case it's not clear, I'm cranky at people who lie about it because they think I'll fuck up their diets or something otherwise.)
A customer told me the other day that she was allergic to butter. I wasn't sure how to respond, but I was thinking "you're allergic to saturated fat?" I kept trying to think of how someone could be allergic to butter. So I did a web search. A couple of recipe sites came up with people wanting substitutions because they're "allergic", but most of the sites came up with exactly what I was expecting ....
"Lie and tell the waiter that you're deathly allergic to butter" because you're on a diet or don't like it.
*headdesk* C'mon, people. Just 'fess up and tell us you don't want it! I get more pissed with people tell me they're "allergic" to something ridiculously common than I do when they nicely ask for it be left off. Crying "allergy!!!!!11!" just makes you look like a drama queen. We can tell when someone is genuinely allergic versus when they're just being twats. No, really.
A customer told me the other day that she was allergic to butter. I wasn't sure how to respond, but I was thinking "you're allergic to saturated fat?" I kept trying to think of how someone could be allergic to butter. So I did a web search. A couple of recipe sites came up with people wanting substitutions because they're "allergic", but most of the sites came up with exactly what I was expecting ....
"Lie and tell the waiter that you're deathly allergic to butter" because you're on a diet or don't like it.
*headdesk* C'mon, people. Just 'fess up and tell us you don't want it! I get more pissed with people tell me they're "allergic" to something ridiculously common than I do when they nicely ask for it be left off. Crying "allergy!!!!!11!" just makes you look like a drama queen. We can tell when someone is genuinely allergic versus when they're just being twats. No, really.
A slow night, and not even any stories to tell for it!
My tables today were perfectly fine and pleasant .... and utterly unremarkable. The only one I remember was a teenage boy with his dad, and that was only because I asked him why his hat still had stickers on it. Other than that ... nothing going on. Nobody funny, nobody cranky, nobody picky.
The only thing of note was the fact that I got screwed for the third time since Friday in terms of floor time. Friday I was supposed to be a second cut; it was so slow they included me in the first cut. Lunch today I was supposed to work until the dinner shift, and they cut me. Then, they asked me to work until close tonight ... only to turn around less than five minutes later and tell me nevermind! All of this was by the same manager, too, who is probably my favorite and who kept apologizing for it, so I didn't really get mad ... I just feel like I'm wearing a kick me sign at the same time I'm hemorrhaging money, and it's bringing me down.
The only thing of note was the fact that I got screwed for the third time since Friday in terms of floor time. Friday I was supposed to be a second cut; it was so slow they included me in the first cut. Lunch today I was supposed to work until the dinner shift, and they cut me. Then, they asked me to work until close tonight ... only to turn around less than five minutes later and tell me nevermind! All of this was by the same manager, too, who is probably my favorite and who kept apologizing for it, so I didn't really get mad ... I just feel like I'm wearing a kick me sign at the same time I'm hemorrhaging money, and it's bringing me down.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Well that was a new one.
I had an older couple at one of my tables tonight. I took their drink order, and then their dinner order. Before they got their dinner, I walked by a couple of times to check their drink levels, but didn't stop or interrupt. Another server delivered their food while I was taking an order; I went up to ask how their dinner was. The wife said hers was fine; the husband said he hadn't tried his yet. I asked if they'd like anything else and went on my way.
A few minutes later, I figured I'd better check on them again in case anything was wrong with the guy's food. And he totally bit my head off! "Are you back again? Can't you stop bugging me? Everything is fine, okay? JUST FINE."
In nine years I've never had anybody get pissed because I was there too often! I just said "Okay, then I won't come back until your plate is empty." and smiled. I think after that his wife scolded him, though, because when he was completely finished and I asked if they wanted dessert he was very nice and kept saying things were great, I did great, etc. etc.
But seriously--who complains that a server is giving them too much attention? Especially because she's checked on you twice? Crazy fuckers.
A few minutes later, I figured I'd better check on them again in case anything was wrong with the guy's food. And he totally bit my head off! "Are you back again? Can't you stop bugging me? Everything is fine, okay? JUST FINE."
In nine years I've never had anybody get pissed because I was there too often! I just said "Okay, then I won't come back until your plate is empty." and smiled. I think after that his wife scolded him, though, because when he was completely finished and I asked if they wanted dessert he was very nice and kept saying things were great, I did great, etc. etc.
But seriously--who complains that a server is giving them too much attention? Especially because she's checked on you twice? Crazy fuckers.
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