Urge to kill approaching critical mass.

I've had nothing but freaks, screaming crotch-spawn, and bitches all fucking night. Right now I could cheerfully light this place on fire on my way out the door.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Who's the fucking bitch?

My very last table last night had a whiff of white trash about them, but nothing I would have remembered. They came in half an hour before close, ordered giant cocktails and dessert, and then decided to go out and have a smoke right after I locked the doors. I directed them to the patio, even though we don't usually let people smoke out there (I think it's covered under the state smoking ban technically)--I wasn't going to unlock the door and risk having more people come in and get pissed off.

They finally gave me their card at about quarter after; the first time I ran it I got a "time out" message, which happens sometimes and I didn't think anything of it since it went through immediately the second time. They left right after, and we closed up and went home.

At about 4:30 today, I heard the bartender tell the GM that "there's a woman named Kelly on the phone who's really intent on talking to a manager". I had a bad feeling--I had to do one void last night, and whenever we do that the first charge still shows up as "pending" for several days. I explained that to my table, but I thought maybe the wife wasn't listening.

Oh, no. It was whitetrash lady. Apparently that first "time out" thing was showing up as a pending transaction, and she was throwing a fit. She claims the bank told her that she could just call the restaurant and we could fix it--like magic! When the manager politely told her that she wasn't able to because we only sent the real charge through once, and that it would disappear on its own, the woman screamed at her, "FUCK YOU, you fucking bitch!"

GM asked her not to swear at her, please, and the woman continued to scream. "I would have never come in there if I knew this was going to happen, you fucking bitch! I'm going to sue your ass off! I'm never fucking coming in there again!" etc. etc., and eventually hung after after screaming "fuck you" one more time. She called my boss, who she's never met, a "fucking bitch" three times, and threw "fuck you" in there at least three times too.

The amount the woman was screaming about? $21.

Goddamn patio monkeys.

(ETA: I want to clarify something: I had no idea until R.A. posted a comment that "porch monkey" is used as a racial slur. I've never heard it before--I just called bitchy, ridiculous people on the patio "patio monkeys" until one day I accidentally called it the porch, and it stuck. I in no way meant anything racist by it--they were upper class whites, in fact. I apologize if anyone was offended.)

$2 in quarters is never a great tip. But on a $68 bill, it's an insult. On perfect service, it's an insult. When you sat on the patio and were annoying little patio monkeys the entire time, it's an insult.

And when all those circumstances combine, somebody is a big fucking bitch.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Sunday cast.

So I work in about two hours, and I just couldn't be less enthused. I didn't sleep well, so I'm exhausted--and I close. That aside, let me introduce you to tonight's cast of characters:

Brainless--you all know her. At least she doesn't close with me any more.

The Screamer--a former waitress who now only expos, and only two days a week. I don't know why she even bothers, and I wish she wouldn't. She has one volume level and one tone--I'm not exaggerating when I say the hosts can hear her bellowing "hot fooOOOOOD" or screaming for a runner. It doesn't matter how many people are in the kitchen, or even standing right there waiting to pick up the food--she screams anyway.

The Ice Nazi--She and I worked at the same restaurant in high school, and we get along fine. To people she doesn't like she's very bossy and condescending though, and ice is her pet peeve. If the ice bin is less than half full, even just barely, she will slam her glasses down on the counter and stomp over to ice machine shouting "Nobody else in this entire fucking place can get ice?" and then continue mumbling "bullshit" as she fills the ice bin. She also gets out of sidework every Sunday because she has to go pick up her son in Denver.

Preggers--A nice girl, but lazy. Even worse now that she's pregnant. Also, her name is only slightly different from mine, and The Screamer always mixes us up and yells at me about her food.

The Sisters--They can be hit or miss. The older one is usually cheerful and happy, but sometimes she inexplicably ignores me. The younger one is really hyper; she talks a mile a minute, doesn't let you get a word in edgewise .... and sometimes in the middle of a sentence will start speaking with an accent. And it's not always the same accent, sometimes it's southern, sometimes it's British, Scottish, Irish, or Australian. Sometimes it's something that sounds like she's trying for a German accent. It's rather odd. She's our carryout girl tonight, so hopefully she won't get too stressed--when she gets stressed serving or on expo, she starts screaming and swearing and screwing up more and blaming other people.

Mr. Horseteeth--I don't mind him; we trade Family Guy quotes and joke around. And he doesn't have horse teeth; that's his wife, who's the problem. And she will be in. Any time one works and the other doesn't, the one not working comes in to help the other with their sidework. So she'll be there, rolling his silverware and refusing to share the counter space with anyone else; telling everyone else how to do their jobs; looking like she's got something smelly right under her nose; and exuding an undeserved sense of gradeur.

Mousy Bartender--I love her. We get along great. There are only two problems. One is she's a bit slow getting drinks sometimes; the other is the creepy regular who has a crush on her. He'll probably show up at 4 and be there all night. Sometimes, he won't leave until all the employees are ready to go! He's been coming in for about seven years; I remember him from the first time I worked there, so he feels he's entitled to hang around as long as he wants. He'll sit at the bar, talking literally the entire time--to the bartender, to any server who doesn't ignore him, to other bar patrons he's interrupted. Or just to himself, narrating the baseball game. If there's nobody at the bar to talk to later in the evening, he'll come over and stand at the staff table while we're eating and continue talking, which makes it impossible to talk to anyone else. His voice is loud and booming (one volume only), and he says either "to tell you the truth" or "know what I'm saying" at the end of nearly every sentence. We'll probably get seven hours of quality time with him tonight.

Little Miss Sunshine--a middle-aged woman who is just the sunniest, cheerfullest person I've ever met. I don't think I've ever heard her complain. Obviously the opposite of me.

Perpetua--Most of the time I want to staple things to her head. (Who gets it?) This is the person I close with now. She thinks she's in charge of everybody because she's been a server her whole life; she also talks to everybody like they're idiots, repeating things over and over in different ways as if we couldn't understand "you need to wipe down the drink trays" the first time. When dealing with her tables, she's not just polite, she's obsequious. And that is the extent of her personality. She has no sense of humor at all; it's like working with a condescending dishrag.

In terms of hosts, I'm not sure who we have, although there are a number of people I can eliminate. I think we're stuck with the Teenage Baby Mama, who claims to have a medical prescription for her pot, and Teenage DUI Girl. They have about a half a functioning brain between them.

I can't see the cooks' schedule, so I'm just hoping for good results there. Also, I don't know who will be managing. Probably not the GM, she almost never works nights. If I'm lucky, I'll get Pot Smoking Manager tonight. I don't know that he really smokes pot anymore, but he's not shy about saying he doesn't remember most of the 80s. He's very laid back, never gets upset no matter how stressed. Or I could be unlucky and get Lapdog, who's due back from vacation, or Bitter Divorced Man, who is completely unpredictable.

And then there's me. I think by the time I get home, the "only slightly" in my moniker won't apply.

Nice to know I made an impression.

So last night after work, my car wouldn't start, which was just fucking fantastic. Luckily, there were quite a few of my coworkers still there, and my friend J said she could give me a ride. The catch was that all the closers were going to get a drink at a bar across the street, so I had to go with them. I wasn't too thrilled for a number of reasons--mostly because I was pissed off and just wanted to go home, but also because I knew drinking wasn't a good idea. When I drink, whatever mood I start out in tends to get intensified at first, and I knew I'd end up crying in a corner after one drink. I know, I sound like a pansy lightweight. It's not like a get drunk and cry; I've actually never been drunk. I just have weird reactions--like random muscles will start tingling, usually a bicep or calf. Anyway, the point is I sat there unable to hear the conversation anyway and waiting for it to be over.

At one point all the smokers went out to catch cancer, which left me and one other woman sitting at the bar. She's worked at this restaurant for nine years, so she was there the first time I worked there. We were just sitting there, not even really talking much, when she suddenly says, "I'm glad I've gotten to know you. The first time you worked here I thought you were kind of lazy, but now you're a hard worker."

I wanted to say, "And the first time I worked here I thought you were a meth head, so at least one of us was right!" But that would've just been mean.

Advice to customers: when you're a camper.

On my "Days that make you hate your job" posted, Anonymous left an interesting comment:

I'm not a server or in the business, but feel for all of you who are, and love all your blogs. I'm not sure how to say this right, but please don't hate all of us "campers" before you've even had a chance to find out whether we'll leave a generous tip or not. There are times on my job when I have to wait out storms and don't like to do it in my truck, and am not allowed to go shopping. I usually will find a restaurant, order food and wait out the rain reading a book. I ALWAYS ALWAYS tip at least 100 percent and usually more for taking up someones table for so long even if I get the stink-eye from my server for "camping". I usually try to explain that I might be there a while, but I've never found a way to ensure the server that I'll compensate them well. How should I do that so they aren't so upset with me before I even get my bill? Maybe you could post a blog to let customers know how to go about this.

First, I think it's great that you even care--most people are just utterly oblivious, or they think "I'm the customer, I have a right to stay here as long as I want!" And the thing with campers is that it's all about context. I don't hate all of them, and I've been known to go to a restaurant for several hours too--but never during the prime hours.

(I'm going to use "you" throughout this, but I mean it in the general sense, not the personal.)

There are a couple of situations where you're going to be pissing someone off regardless. If it's prime rush time, say 11-2 or 5-8ish, you're significantly cutting into a server's profits if you're there more than fifteen minutes after you finish your food. Also, if you stay more than fifteen minutes after closing time, every employee in the place is pretty much thinking you're a douchebag.

Mitigating circumstances: a single person at a two-seater table who's polite and friendly is not going to be nearly as upsetting as a single person who's rude and bitchy, taking up a table that could seat four or more. After closing time, if there are multiple tables, we're going to be annoyed in general instead of at you in particular.

If you are going to be there during the dinner rush, ask for a closer's section. They have a lot more time to make money, so they'll be less annoyed. Don't take up a table bigger than you need unless there's a reason (like the chairs hurt your back but the booths are okay). During later hours, and if you see lots of open tables, it's not such a big deal. I don't care if somebody camps out at a booth the entire time from second cuts to close, generally speaking.

In general, be polite; and instead of trying to tell your server you'll be generous at the beginning, pay your bill promptly and let them take the credit slip/change right away. If you're worried about them ignoring you after that, just politely tell them you'll probably want a refill and to please check back. This also allows your sever to leave if they're supposed to be off the clock, instead of having to wait around making $2 an hour waiting to pick up your credit slip. They'll ask another server to keep an eye on you if that's the case.

We don't automatically hate all campers; a lot of it is about attitude. For example if the people who made me so angry on Tuesday would've sat at the bar for the first 2.5 hours they were waiting for the rest of their party, I could've run three groups of customers through that table and made some money. Instead, they took up my table and were rude to me to boot. The people having the meeting showed up during the dinner rush, knowing they weren't going to eat--so why go to a restaurant? It was also the combination of both of them sitting there at the same time that made me so mad, so some of it was just bad luck.

Any additional suggestions from fellow servers?

Tip me!

You all should totally click that little icon about sponsored Tweets. It'll earn me 13 cents--which is 13 cents more than I got off my last table today, the bitches.

Real post coming later tonight. :)

Days that make you hate your job.

Oy.

I didn't go in to work cranky. I liked my section; two booths, two two-seaters, and one high top by the bar. Perfect for me since I do better with lots of small tables than big ones. I wandered around greeting coworkers, ran some food, braided my hair, and eventually got a table ... of four old people who were that sort of nice that you know means they'll be easy to wait on, but not worth a decent tip.

My next table was parents and a child; they flat-out said the only reason they were there was because the kid had gotten a coupon for a free meal for reading ten books or something like that. They weren't excited to be there, and it showed.

My next table was two guys at my high table by the bar. Three feet from the bar, actually, and they each ordered a happy hour beer and no food.

And that was it. The next 45 minutes consisted of waiting for people to leave. The old folks eventually gave me a verbal tip and $5 and left. The pissy parents left me $2. The two beer drinkers sat there and ordered another beer right before happy hour prices expired.

A guy sat down at one of my booths and ordered a margarita; he was waiting for two other people and had a bunch of papers and notebooks. Awesome. Two very slow moving, slow talking old people sat at my other booth. They were no trouble, they just took an hour or better to eat the smallest meal we have, and left ten percent.

My only two decent tables were two middle aged couples, one at each of my two-seaters, who both left me 20%. Meanwhile, a woman had joined the beer drinkers and ordered a margarita. That was at 6:15. At 6:45, they finally ordered an appetizer after bitching about so many of the appetizers having tomato products. And then they continued to sit.

Two more joined the guy at my booth; they ordered beers. When I came back there was another woman there, who also wanted a beer. When I came back, she asked for water, and they informed me they were "just having a meeting, we're not eating!"
It took all my self-control not to tell them "This isn't a fucking meeting hall."
I got them all waters, as I knew that was coming, and dropped off their bill and more or less ignored them other than asking if they wanted another round.

And then I waited around some more. At seven, I had made five dollars. My two two-seaters left, which tripled my tips. And I waited around some more. I was so pissed off at that point that I gave my second-cut shift to another server--after two hours, eight tables, and $150 in sales, I just wanted out.

The meeting people were still sitting there; the drinkers were still sitting there; the old people had just left; I had nothing to do. Then the drinkers demanded "dinner menus" .... literally thirty seconds before the manager cut the floor. I was livid--they had been there for two and a half hours at that point! I waited, out of their sight, until the server who now had that section was done ringing an order in, and asked to pass them off to her. She was royally pissed about something else, but said she'd take them. I then walked out the kitchen door to tell these people I wasn't their server anymore....

And saw that another woman had joined them! The first one did that bitchy finger crooking thing at me, and it took all my diplomacy not to go off on them.
"We're ready to order," she tells me.
"Okay; unfortunately it's time for me to leave, so (new server) will be taking care of you from now on and I've told her you'll be ordering dinner." I gave them my biggest fake smile. What was running through my head was "Now that you've sat here literally my entire shift screwing me out of money, I'm done. This isn't a fucking coffeehouse, it's a restaurant, and I'm not wasting any more of my time on you! You can stare at me like you need something all you want from now on like you have been all night, I'll be ignoring you from this moment forward."
They didn't really respond, so I just walked away. I blasted through my sidework, which was done before they got their food, and then I went to talk to the other camping fuckers, who were still having their meeting. I planned to tell them they could either pay up or be passed along, but they had their card out. So I dropped it off and went back to pick up the slip as soon as I saw they'd signed it. They'd deigned to give me $3 after sitting for an hour and a half at my table.

I got my sidework signed and then I very loudly said to my coworkers "I'm leaving before I kill somebody!" The people who'd at that point been there for three fucking hours were just outside the kitchen, so I'm sure they heard me; one of the bitches gave me a hateful look as I breezed by, purposefully all smiles, and was out the side door.

Twenty bucks on a Tuesday night shift, all because people think it's okay to sit around taking up space through the dinner rush.

Waste of my life part two.

Another old couple.

A joiner to the beer drinkers, also just having a drink three feet from the bar.

A guy waiting on two more, who he's having a meeting with.

My other two tables have yet to be sat.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Oh, this is a great start.

Four old people, people ordering the cheapest food on the menu and have a coupon, and two guys taking up one of my tables literally three feet from the bar while have a single beer each and no food.

Dammit.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Snap those fingers at me again and I just might break them.

I very rarely get people snapping at me; I'd like to think it's because I'm such a stellar server, but I'm sure it's just luck! Tonight I had someone though. I had gotten triple-sat, with a five inside, a five out on the patio, and a two inside. I rang in the order for the outside table, I dropped off drinks at the five top and told them I'd be right back, I went to the two top.

They weren't ready to order; I knew right away they were going to be trouble, though, as the woman was very snide about it. It was a couple, and they sat on the same side of the booth; but unlike most people who do that, they weren't cuddly or even touching at all. They both seemed very uncomfortable, actually.

I got the drink order on the inside five top, and then glanced back at the two. They were still looking at the menu. Meanwhile, I could see that my outside table needed refills. So I go back to the kitchen, punch in the five top's very simple order, and pour two sodas. I breeze out to the patio, set the drinks down, and come back in.

I'm a nerd, so I've made a diagram. After setting down the drinks at the table outside, I came back in. I had already made a left and was in front of table 23, walking towards and looking at my two top, when the woman sticks her arm in the air, snaps her fingers, and snips, "We're ready to order!"

My smile froze on my face. I stiffly took their order, gave them basic service, and was not sorry to see the back of them.

Annoying order of the day.

"I'll have a top shelf margarita, a glass of ice water, and a glass of hot water."
"And I'll have the same margarita, and a glass of warm water."

Oh, bite me.

I'm gonna be one cranky bitch in a week.

I guess my boss felt sorry for me, being sick and missing so many shifts. She did the schedule this week instead of Lapdog, and she scheduled me for seven days next week. Plus the three starting tomorrow, and a minimum of two more at the beginning of the following week if my schedule doesn't change from normal.

So starting tomorrow, I'm schedule looks like this:
5 stay (second cut)
4 stay
4:30 close
5 close
4 stay
11 first cut
11:30 first cut
5 stay
4 stay
4:30 close
5 close
4 stay

And considering they usually just copy the schedule over, and I need money, it'll probably look like this:
5 stay (second cut)
4 stay
4:30 close
5 close
4 stay
11 first cut
11:30 first cut
5 stay
4 stay
4:30 close
5 close
4 stay
11 first cut
11:30 first cut
5 stay
4 stay
4:30 close
5 close
4 stay
11 first cut
11:30 first cut
5 stay
4 stay
4:30 close
5 close
4 stay, unfortunate incident involving me, customer's head, and a very hot skillet
OFF (straightjacket)

Critiquing other servers.

I'm out to lunch with my grandma, and I find myself analysing our server. He seemed grumpy, for one thing--no smiles. And he also said "you guys take your time." Neither of us are guys, and he's about fifty so should know better. Not that it offends me or my grandma, I just noticed.
Oh god. My grandma just pronounced the Ls in pico de gallo.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

State secrets.

I love perple who tell you their order as if it's in strict confidence. I had a woman on Monday slide closer to me, put a hand to the side of her face as if blocking lip readers, and tell me with much force and in a lowered tone, "I'll have the chicken alfredo."

I was expecting the ingredients to the special sauce or something with that lead up.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

See what happens when I open my mouth?

The GM did next week's schedule, and she took Brainless off the Sunday close. But she replaced her with someone even worse--but who I'd have no grounds to complain about. She's just a bossy know-it-all who thinks she's in charge of me.

Dammit.

Experiences as a Hooters Girl: i suck at this blogging thing

Experiences as a Hooters Girl: i suck at this blogging thing

H.G.: I'm hoping doing a linkback will publish on your blog! You do have readers, we just aren't able to leave comments. When you click "post a comment" nothing happens!

Pay no attention to the loudmouth in the kitchen ...

I inadvertently amused half the restaurant the other night. I was walking through the kitchen, and Black Sabbath's "Ironman" was on the radio. So I flexed my arms and bellowed "I AM IRONMAN!" to nobody in particular. The cooks thought it was hilarious. Nothing like a chesty fat girl proclaiming herself to be Ironman, right?

I knew I was loud, but I wasn't expecting the moment of silence and then hysterical laughter from the front of house. As soon as I rounded the corner the bartender, L, who was practically bent over laughing, gasped at me "Was that YOU?"

"Hey, Ozzy was on!" was all I said.

I think my face was a bit red though. And I'm sure the customers were a bit confused, since they were listening to Shania Twain.

Brainless gets the regulars.

We have an older couple who've been coming in to this restaurant for about ten years. I remember them from my first tour through this restaurant. They're nice enough people, but very particular, and they'll talk your freaking ear off if you don't know how to extricate yourself from the conversation. The thing about them that's nice is that even though they're particular, they tell you exactly what they want up front unless they've seen you before.

Well, they came in on Sunday. I thought it was a bad idea from the instant the hostess sat them in her section; but then I thought, they're very clear about what they want, how could she screw it up?

Oh, right.

I've waited on them plenty of times before. So I know that Lenny said they wanted the small basket of chips with a small side of cheese and salsa. I know that he said he wanted his soup before his salad, but he didn't want his soup until after they were finished with the chips. And I know that Julie wanted her chicken salad at the same time as his. (I also know that this is a ridiculously simple order for them.)

Well, I was in the kitchen when their appetizer came up, and saw that it was wrong--it was the large order of chips. Not a big deal for most people, but these people get really easily irritated. Julie gets pissed if we put coasters on their table, for instance.

So I fixed it; I was going to tell her the proper way to ring it in, too, which is a little more expensive, until I saw the way she rang in their food. We have two options for how to ring in soups and salads. There's "a la carte" and "with meal". These people, after ten years, get the with meal price even if they don't order a meal. Well, Brainless rang in the more expensive, a la carte price for both his soup and salad. So I figure it balanced out the appetizer.

However, I had to step in with the kitchen and tell the expo to hold the two salads and the soup, rung in together, and immediately after taking their order--before they even got their appetizer. I went back to the table to double-check he wanted his soup first as usual, and that everything else on the ticket was right; then I went to the expo and told her I'd keep an eye out for them to be finished with their appetizer.

So essentially, she got the components of the order right but ignored their requests for delivery order and timing. I ended up managing, from the kitchen, the timing of their food. Maybe I should've just let her go down in flames; but in the end it wasn't worth it. They'd have taken up a bunch of the manager's time bitching, and a bunch of their next server's time too. I know because I got a fifteen minute earful once about a different brainless wonder who waited on them and screwed up.



I ended up talking to the GM about this girl tonight; after getting stuck with her on the shittiest sidework again, I was just so freaking stressed out. It was just another exercise in irritation; I asked her if she could be a little neater this time and she just said she'd clean it up. I nicely pointed out that it took less time to be careful than to clean up the mess, and she basically told me to shut up. Several times she went out front and sat down at the bar (which we aren't supposed to do) to talk to a regular she thinks is hot. Still, it was less annoying than last time--although at least some of that is due to the fact that as soon as I saw I was stuck with her, I did the prep list myself and got labels ready right off the bat, so there was no re-doing of stuff.

But between the pissy little lapdog manager being pissed at me, Sunday's events, and her still being a moron .... I just couldn't take it. So when I gave the GM my checkout, I closed the office door and told her just a few of the things I wrote about on Sunday.

I said I know Brainless hasn't closed much, but her attitude about it makes it really stressful. I didn't want to overload GM or sound like I was just bitching; so I just told her the girl won't do anything without directly being told and sometimes won't do it then either.I mentioned not locking the door as I was sure the security concern would strike a chord. I told her I'd rather close by myself; but I also said another coworker had said she wouldn't mind closing Sundays. She said she'd keep an eye on the situation, and I told her I'd let her know how this Sunday.

So it's a start at least.

I still have a story about a crazy lady from the 4th of July to write about too, but for tonight, I'm going to bed! I have the next two glorious days off, and I don't even plan to put on pants tomorrow. Even if I have to leave the house, I'm going out in pajamas. Society can bite me.

Continuing frustrations.

So I was about 15 minutes late to work yesterday. I told the manager why, or at least vaguely so; it was a good reason. This is the manager I've referred to as the high-strung little lapdog. He continued to act like an ass to me the entire night--not speaking to me, giving me the evil eye, acting like I'd done something terrible. I didn't really care; I was upset enough about the thing that made me late that I was quiet all night anyway. I had a perfect shift; no mistakes, no issues, not so much as a steak re-cook or unfilled beverage. All my customers were happy; I helped my coworkers; I was a closer and we were out the door twenty minutes after close.

Well, I was late again today. Not that late; I think six minutes. I was already in the building when I got a call from said manager wanting to know where I was! I didn't recognize the number, though; I think it was his cell phone. So I didn't answer it. When he came stomping around the corner (at this point it's 4:10), he asked why I was late. I didn't even try to give him an excuse; I said "Because I suck." I wasn't really in a mood to deal with his bipolar issues--one of the few things he did say to me yesterday was really rude and insensitive, and I guess I was still kind of pissed.

So when he snapped at me that "that's not an acceptable answer to be bringing me, you need to be on time" I just looked him in the eye and said "Okay". When he didn't say anything else, I walked away. I didn't say it with a trace of sarcasm, insolence, or anything. Just matter-of-fact. For the next thirty minutes I ran food, ran drinks, etc. ... at least as much as there was to do, considering there were three tables in the place, all of them from waaaaaaay before I was supposed to be there. After thirty minutes, I finally got my first table.

In essence, me being late caused absolutely no problems. Now, I am totally aware I should have been on time. But I don't think it warranted his nasty attitude until he left at around six. It's not like it's a regular thing. And I'm one of the better employees. Maybe I'm not the best server in the place; there are a couple of girls who have personalities better suited to the job, who I've never seen get rattled. There are people who've gotten more compliments than me; there are people who've gotten less complaints than me.

But there are people who've been late more than me, or not shown up at all, and who consistently have issues. Brainless, for one. Her work record sucks--she was calling in, coming in half an hour late, not showing up without calling, etc. Then she suddenly had to go back to Utah because her dad had a stroke, and when she comes back a month or more later she gets made a server despite the previous issues.

Anyway, I'm pissed. He'd better not have a damn attitude with me this weekend or I might snap. As it was, I talked to the GM about it tonight; I was talking to her about Brainless (more on that later), and mentioned "Hey, I don't know if (lapdog) said anything, but he's pretty pissed at me." Turns out he wanted to write me up--but that he had a freaking list of people he was pissed at, so I'm thinking GM isn't going to take it too seriously. No write-up, at least. And when I explained to her the situation yesterday, she talked to me about it and was very sympathetic.

I brought it up to her because Lapdog does the schedule--and if he decides to be a big douchehound and take away a bunch of my shifts next week, I can go to the GM and ask her to intercede.

It just really pisses me off to be treated that way by him for such a simple thing. I was a manager and I never treated my employees like that. I had to talk to some of them about being late, and there's a way to do it without being personal.

Again, I know I should've been on time--but for Christ's sake, he was acting like I'd just not shown up at all.

Way to manage labor cost.

I'm a first cut tonight. Any other manager but the GM and I would be at the gym already. Instead, I was just cut. And got the crummiest sidework again. With Brainless. Again. Fuck.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

A nice start to my shift.

My first table when I got to work seemed just terribly happy to see me. At first, the wife was sitting alone, and she got a big smile on her face and waved at me as I was approaching. After her husband came back, she said they were very happy I was waiting on them again. I laughed and joked with them a little. It was nice to have my first table be so friendly and seem so happy to see me.

It probably would have been better if I had any idea who they were ......

Another evening with brainless.

Tonight was another lovely trying night. I really want to like this girl, but she's just so damn lazy. And often stupid.

For example, today I got triple sat with five tops, and she asked if she could help me. I thought that was nice of her, and I asked her to make me an Oreo sundae. She said "Okay!" and bounced off.

Well, I come back from getting a drink order and she's just leaning against the bar. I started looking for my dessert, and she tells me, "I didn't know what you meant by an Oreo sundae." Umm .... WHAT?

A couple of hours later, she's ringing something in next to me and says, "The margarita gold is the house margarita, right?"
She's been serving for at least a month. She's worked at this place for a long longer. Our house margarita has a very specific name, which is nowhere near the gold margarita--which has Grand Marnier in it.

After our post-cut rush, we were working on cleaning up the back. Again, I get the "Now what?" crap. Only this time, it had a twist: her cheerfully asserting "If you think I remember anything from last week, you're wrong!"

I gave her explicit instructions and told her I'd be working on the front.

Later, after her last table finally left, she comes up to me while I'm vacuuming and asks "What should I do?"
I tried not to sound snotty as I said, "Clean your table, for starters." It wasn't even pre-bussed. She thought that was hilarious.

Ten minutes later, I'm still vacuuming; which we don't even normally do at night. But the girl working in the morning was going to be opening alone, because of Brainless--she picked up the shift, then promptly tried to give it away because she forgot she has an exam that morning.

I started running the vacuum while she was in the back; I wanted to get the hell out of there. I asked Brainless to move chairs out of my way and then put them back. She says "Do we really have to do this? I want to go home!"
I don't think she liked my response: "Considering Sara's working alone in the morning because of you, yes, we do!"

Several minutes later, I'm vacuuming around the bar, and it occurs to me that I asked my coworker to lock the front door at closing time. I thought I should probably check it, but then I thought she must have, since nobody had walked in in the last 45 minutes--usually we get at least three groups of people yanking on the doors after close.

Well, imagine how surprised I wasn't when I turned around to see a local homeless guy in our lobby, wanting to know if we had any food we were going to throw out. He seemed harmless, but wouldn't leave until I got the manager to tell him we weren't hiring any dishwashers.

Brainless wanders out and asks who the guy is. I told her the reason we lock the doors.

"Oh. I forgot."

GAHHHHHH!!!!!!

Things that piss me off, Happy Hour version.

-Don't get offended when I offer you the Saturday night margarita special. It's not like you have "I DON'T DRINK THE DEVIL'S JUICE" stamped on your forehead. Just say no once. There's no need to shout. "No thank you, I'd like an iced tea" is sufficient. "No! NO NO NO! I don't DRINK!" is overkill.

-If it's 7:30, don't pretend to look at your watch and say "Oh look, it's nine!" when I say that's when happy hour starts. Immediately after that, saying "It's not 3 yet, is it?" to try to charm me into giving you the lunch special? Not going to work.

-If you order a Fat Tire pint, and your ticket says "Fat Tire pt", don't point at it and say "Is that the right price?!" Yes, it's the right fucking price. New Belgium beers aren't cheap. Deal with it.

-We have white zinfandel, but we do not have white zin-fan-DALE.

-Don't assume that your fancy fru-fru fruity martini is on happy hour. Ask. If you assume it's on happy hour and then give me doe eyes about it when I drop your ticket, I'm going to have zero sympathy for you.

-Don't say you want your margarita with less ice next time--you ain't getting any more tequila.

-Those fleshy things on the side of your head are ears. They're what allow you to figure out the correct response to my mouth moving and my vocal chords vibrating to form the sonic vibrations that sound like "would you like your margarita regular or large?" Hint: "on the rocks" is not the right answer.

-Sorry, 16 year old kids. The happy hour flyer says right on it in plain print that you have to order a beverage to get the appetizer discount. Water does not count. One Pepsi does not get you five cheap appetizers. Pony up for the sodas, or get the fuck out. On second thought, just get the fuck out.

-No, I can't give you the happy hour price because happy hour starts in 15 minutes. Not if you want your beer now. It doesn't work that way. Keep pushing it, and I won't even ring it at the five minute mark when the computer prices switch over.

-When I offer you a happy hour beverage, don't tell me, "Oh, I'll take a big happy hour WATER!" It's not funny. Really. You're not the special hilarious snowflake you think you are. Say it again and you just might get a big happy hour foot up your ass.

More reading, less mascara.

So the brainless one I wrote about a few days ago? She's a 20 year old college student ... And didn't know what sporadic means.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Things that pissed me off today.

-Arriving to find 3/4 of my tables sat.

-Having three tables before cut.

-Getting to moved to a different section at cut, right after that section gets filled up and right before my old one gets filled.

-People who interrupt me saying "Can I bring you anything else?" to demand "more lemons!"

-People who sit on the very outside edge of the booth with their feet in the aisle, as if they might have to run for their lives at any moment.

-People staring at me like I just asked them to solve for X under conditions of Y when I ask what they'd like to drink.

-People who think joking about my tip is just fucking hilarious!

-Having to read an entire menu to people because they don't read English or speak it very well--and the Spanish menu every location of this chain restaurant is supposed to have? Oh, ours is from about 2006.

-Having the same people try to tell me their beer should be half priced because it's after nine--well, it wasn't after nine when you ordered it, and our happy hour prices aren't half off anyway!

-And then the same people leaned on their book for ten minutes, not acknowledging me at all or giving any sign they were ready to cash out. I go to the bathroom, and so of course that's when they decide they need to pay RIGHT THE FUCK NOW and flag down the manager.

-Then the manager gets pissed off and throws their book down on the counter in front of me.

-The same manager working on totally freaking out because he thinks we're too busy after he finally, finally, FINALLY cuts to closers. Yeah, there were a lot of tables in the place--because people were camping the fuck out!

-Morons who look at the word "penne" and say "panini".

-People who ask, every damn time they're there, if we have Diet Dr. Pepper. NO! We didn't last week, and we won't next week! Christ on a pineapple! Shut up and drink some diet coke!

-Adults who try to order mudslides for their children for dessert--sure, I'd love to see little Sally get her drunk on! Bartender, five shots of Kahlua in that, one for every year she's been alive!

But what will cheer me up?

Fucking gross.

If you're so afraid of your ass cheeks touching a public toilet, hold it until you get home. Nobody here gets paid enough to clean up your shit spray.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Brain removed to make room for makeup skills.

The girl I'm stuck closing with on Sunday nights is about as smart as a tree branch. Don't get me wrong, she's nice. I want to like her, as she's a friend of my former roommate and I don't like being at odds with coworkers. But the next time I hear "Now what?" come out of her mouth, I just might scream.

See, she's not someone who can see things need to be done and do them. When we were closing on Sunday, we got killed at the end of the night. Right after cut, tables started flowing it. At first it was nothing I couldn't handle--even having two on the north side of the restaurant, two on the south size, and one on the patio plus no expo and a manager who's a bit slow to catch on when we need help. Even Brainless was doing fine and basically staying out of my way.

Then the lobby filled up with a team of softball players and their parents. Brainless couldn't handle it, so of course it fell to me--and I fucking hate big tables. But I dove in without complaint. They weren't even that difficult--they were surprisingly low-maintenance, and didn't even want a billion separate checks. But even the most low-maintenance table of 30 is going to monopolize your time, so Brainless had to take the other smaller tables that came in. One of them sat for five minutes before being greeted, so I greeted them; then it took another ten minutes for her to get them teas. She just doesn't understand how to prioritize, and won't ask for help (by then the manager had caught on!).

At 11:20 (we close at 11), I still had two tables. There were about twelve dirty tables in the place, five of them being mine. Brainless was sitting at the staff table eating. And I don't mean having a few bites then going back to work. She was sitting, and sitting, and sitting. When my tables finally left, she finally got up and started clearing dishes. After we got that done she just looked at me and said "now what?" I said the tables all needed to be wiped and reset and the floor needed to be free of big stuff so that the morning people could vacuum without having to pick up chunks of broccoli, etc.

So she wipes and resets the tables and then says "now what?" I repeat the floor thing. Right about then the manager wanders out, so she asks him how clean the floors need to be. I went in the back and left her to it, I was so annoyed.

Eventually she came back to the kitchen and asked .... "now what?" Now at this point, there was a tea urn draining, dressings still on ice on the counter, lemons to empty, coffee turning to sludge, stuff all over the counters, etc. So I tell her that everything needs to be away and wiped down, and she asks what I want her to do.

I told her to put away the rest of the dressings; then I get "Now what?" Empty the coffee. "Now what?" Wipe down the coffee and tea machines. "Now what?" Empty the straw wrapper trash bin. "Now what?" Dump out the lemons. "Now what?" Wipe down the counters. "Now what?" Take the spouts off the soda machine. "Now what? Now what? Now what?"

Then yesterday I got stuck with the salad cooler sidework with her. I still had a table, so she started making the list of what we needed to prep. When I glanced at the list, I could tell right away it was wrong. She didn't have French or southewestern dressing on the list, and there was none in the cooler or on the line. She didn't have enough salsas or ranch listed; she didn't have the right amounts of cheese. So I had to re-do that.

When she brought jugs out of the walk-in, they all had maybe an inch of dressing in the bottom. She spent ages shaking the containers trying to get the last little bits out in an attempt to not have to open another gallon--even though she needed, for example, two more French after that. After bringing out more jugs, she filled up a couple containers of ranch, french, and southwestern, and carried the gallon jugs back to the fridge, leaving several more containers empty. Same thing with one of the cheeses.

When pouring ranch, she spilled a bunch down the side of the container, and then slid the container across the counter, leaving a big smear of ranch. She didn't wipe the bigger jugs off before putting them in the fridge; she didn't wipe the outside of the small ones. She poured half a bag of salsa across the counter and tried to leave it there; after I told her to clean it up, she left salsa dripping down the edge of the counter. Instead of putting an empty ranch jug in the trash neatly, she tried to throw it, and it bounced and splattered ranch everywhere. When it was all said and done, she tried to leave a huge mess for the prep cooks to clean up.


I'm trying to be patient; but I'm dreading Sunday night.

When 15% isn't enough.

I had an older lady and her grandson at one of my tables last night. She had a salad; he had some mac and cheese. They lady was perfectly polite, and normally the $3, 15% tip she left would've been just fine.

But the kid puked. Quite spectacularly, actually. The stuff was splashed all over the floor and wall of the entrance to the freaking kitchen. Thank god we have two doors so we could go around it, because it was just disgusting. In full view of most of the restaurant, too. And then he threw up all over the ladies' room, as well.

When the staff has to clean up your kid's biological waste, 15% is the equivalent of "fuck you".