Oh look, I have no sympathy for you!

Thursday was a beautiful day out; the kind of day that made me cranky I had to go to work. So, naturally, people wanted to sit on our patio. And, instead of politely explaining that we didn't have the wait staff to cover it, and (more importantly) it wasn't clean after a winter of snow and slush and traffic covering it in grime .... the manager told the hosts to go ahead and seat out there. This made everybody cranky--it's not like people were going to go elsewhere, there aren't any other restaurants around us and I'm pretty sure we're the only place in town that even has patio seating (aside from one Mexican restaurant that's only open summer). But whatever, it would benefit me in the long run, right?

So at first, we were trying to rotate tables between the three of us closest to the patio doors. I took one, another girl took the second ... and the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. The hosts would radio the manager to tell the other two of us we'd gotten tables outside, but by the time we got there she'd jacked the tables. The manager in training was running the floor, and didn't seem to know what to do, so he just let her do it and said she had moved herself out there ... but was keeping her inside tables. WTF? So this pushy bitch gets a twelve table section and the rest of us get four? I don't fucking think so. I tried to suggest to her, and to the training manager, that we redistribute the tables, and they blew me off.

By this time, she had three booths and a two top full inside, three groups of 3-4 outside, a two outside, and a table outside that started out as four and kept growing until they were taking up three patio tables, which of course they'd arranged horizontally across the patio so you had to go back inside, around, and across the foyer to get to the people on the opposite side of them. This girl is getting snappish and pissy and demanding people help her .... and it might have been a bitch move, but I wouldn't. That's what you get for being greedy and snatching other peoples' tables. If it'd been just one or two, I wouldn't have been so pissed.

I got fed up with it and got the GM out of the back--she was letting Junior run the floor because she was sick--and told her what was going on, although I just said she was getting overwhelmed and thought maybe we should change the floor chart. She jumped right on it, all concerned about customer service. I only gained one two-top table, and still didn't do very well overall that night (campers, only big tops came in when my section couldn't fit any, blah blah); but I was less pissed than if I'd just let it go and watched her run a section three times the size of mine.

Later, she was complaining about how tired she was and what a crazy night it'd been, blah blah blah. I just didn't even respond.

What an absolutely boring shift.

Since Easter, the place has just been dead. The week before Easter, I cleared $400 in five shifts. This last week, I barely passed $200. I don't understand where everyone went, but I hope they come back soon, because god damn.

I find I get more easily irritated by peoples' stupidity when I have less tables, too. I think it's because I don't have eighty other things to keep my mind off it. Also, when you only have one or two tables at a time, it means more total trips--you can't bring drinks to 10 and ranch to 21 at the same time if 10 is there at five and 21 is there at seven, for instance. It's exhausting. I'm glad I had good company tonight or I might've been homicidal.

Fuck this day too.

When you only have a three table section on a Monday night, a $1 "tip" is even more galling than usual.
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Please do not touch the waitresses.

A few days ago, it was pathetically slow at work. I was sitting on the bench in the lobby talking to the hosts, with the top of my head resting against the bottom edge of the bar's television cabinet. Basically, I was sitting with my back to the bar area, and my long braid was hanging down behind me. I was just chatting, and I felt someone walking behind me; I assumed it was a customer, until somebody seized my hair and gave it a good pull, knocking my skull against the television cabinet!

Then I assumed it was a coworker, because .... well, who else would it be? There are several of them who like to tug on peoples' hair playfully. So I didn't react and kept talking, until a completely unfamiliar voice shouts "Wake up!"

Yep, it was a customer; not even a regular, not even one of my tables. Nobody I'd ever seen before just walked by and yanked on my hair. And then was laughing about how I didn't react, not seeming to notice that neither me nor the hosts were laughing with them. Who the fuck does that?

Fuck this day.

Hard.
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Sexual harassment in the restaurant industry.

Today as I was walking into the kitchen in front of a friend of mine, I stopped for a moment to give her a booty shake--hey, EMF's "Unbelievable" was on! And that's just how we all are. She promptly cheered and grabbed my braid and pulled, and first I just said "Harder! Harder!" So she pulled my head back all the way until I said .... "Oh yeah, now spit on me and tell me I'm scum!"

What can I say? I enjoy making my coworkers laugh.

The highlight of my evening.

So after my last post, I actually got into a much better mood. This was partially due to one of my coworkers coming in to eat and sitting in my section. He's an annoying little twit sometimes, but weren't we all at eighteen? I have the same sort of relationship with him that I have with my older cousin--basically we're always fucking with each other, putting each other down, etc. So naturally I had to do something when I had him at my mercy.

So when he ordered a Mountain Dew, I doctored it up. I filled the straw with Tobasco. And then I even put the paper wrapper top back on the straw. I'm hilarious.

I didn't make much money, I was there a long time after I should've been, and I had to get a jump because I'd left my car lights on; but I had enough fun with all my coworkers that I still count it as a good shift. Even after the crummy start.

Piss and vinegar.

I'm so annoyed at everything around me today. From the senile old women at my first table to the coworker who plants herself in the middle of entryways, and the bartender who never shuts up to my stupid black pants, and the high strung little lapdog manager on duty to the music I've heard every damn day for almost a year.

I just got here, too.
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It must suck to be you.

So I had a table last night of two middle-aged people. Their service was prompt, their drinks didn't empty until they were paying, they said their food was good. But they both ordered diet meals and water with lemon; I didn't see them speak to each other the entire time they were there; they wouldn't make eye contact with me; and just gave off a grumpy vibe.

Imagine my surprise when the husband took the time to write "zero" on the credit slip.

And then, after closing three nights this week, I had dreams all night about work. Damn!

My traditional Easter greeting.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Happy Easter, ya'll!

If you're old enough to have a debit card ....

... you're old enough to tip. And forty-one cents is not a tip.

Fucking teenagers.