Thursday, November 19, 2009

Grand high priestesses of garbage.

Tuesday wasn't a terribly remarkable night; got out of there at forty minutes past close because we had a small push at the end, but overall it was an average night. Except.

We have three booths in our restaurant that can fit six people, seven with a chair at the end, and all three of those booths were in my station on Tuesday. After the main dinner rush, I had a table of five cocktailing women at table 3, and then at table 2 next door I got soccer moms and their crotch-spawn. The kids were making a huge mess, which is to be expected, and the moms weren't ringing them in, also to be expected. One of the mothers was also the kind of woman who notices your name and uses it--incessantly. "SlightlyCranky, can you get us some more napkins? Thank you, SC. Oh, SC, we need some more water. And can you bring one for little Brandon, SC?" etc. I hate it when people do that--coming from strangers it's condescending, and I also think it's rude. Just because I'm bringing you drink refills doesn't mean we're on a first-name basis.

Anyway, by the time they leave, there's a four-foot radius of debris around the end of the table where they had plopped the baby. There were broken cranyons and torn napkins, chunks of broccoli and fries, and got knows what else under the table. The baby had been fingerpainting with his applesauce; the little girls had been playing with the sugars; there were empty kids' cups rolling across the table, through splatters of ketchup, and mashed potatoes were smeared across the seats.. You know the type of scene.

The crowning glory, though, was actually in the next booth. There, I found a booster seat. In the booster seat was an empty fruit snack package, a torn M&Ms wrapper that had been half-assedly twisted around a melted candy bar of some kind, and a chocolate muffin with a bite missing. In the booster seat, at the clean table next to them. WTF?


LW said...

I don't like serving tables with children.
I also hate when people over use my name. You're right, it's condescending coming from someone who really doesn't know me. I tend to make a game out of it and count how often someone does it. My highest is 17 in 10 minutes; every time they spoke to me. They also seem to think this makes it OK to run you.

Mary Sheehan Winn said...

Little hooligans and mamas that don't care. Bummer.
The post is hilarious though ;D SC? SC? More bread please :D
Also,the 4 foot debris field made me chuckle and you know, I KNOW!
Did they have the decency to leave a good tip?
In the Chinese place, back in the day, the mamas were drinking Mai Tai's while the kids ran crazy around the dining room and made a huge mess with the appetizers and fried rice. Oy, some things never change.

Steven Nicolle said...

These people should just stay at home where they can act like pigs.

purplegirl said...

I'm so glad we don't have fried rice at our place, I can only imagine what the little hoglets would do with that!