SIR YES SIR.

I had a table of four tonight, two older couples. I could tell one of them was going to be a pain in the ass from the start--he wouldn't stop talking over me and everyone else trying to order, trying to get him to answer questions was a nightmare, and he was snide with his wife when she ordered.

Still, he wasn't anything more than obnoxious until after an hour after they'd paid their tab and were still sitting there. I was heading toward my table when he gestured me over. Before I could even open my mouth, he says, "Complimentary coffee. Black." Just like that. Flat. Not a question, not a request--an order. To give him something free.

I gaped at him for a moment, and was half a second away from saying, "Are you serious?" Instead I looked at his friends and said without a smile, "He's demanding, huh?"

If he'd just asked, I wouldn't have even considered ringing up the coffee--it's too much of a pain in the ass for $1.30 when I'm trying to get my sidework done. Because he was so commanding about it, I nearly did ring a ticket, just to piss him off. But I decided I'd rather spend my time in the back, finishing up my kitchen work, than wandering by the table waiting for them to be ready to check out the extra ticket. So I gave him the coffee, and told him not to tell my boss I would giving away things free or I'd be fired. Not true, but I hope it made him feel like an asshole.

They hung around for yet another hour, and they did tip me more than I expect--$13 on a $60 ticket. Still--wtf? Did he really give me a command to give him something free?

Another weekend!

I'm hoping this one will be pretty busy. We had a huge snowstorm this week, so I'm hoping people are ready to get out of the house and eat some damn hot wings!

Thanks, managers.

Freaking lazy .... just copied this week's schedule over for next week, and since I gave up my Monday shift to do homework, that means I'm down to four shifts. Goddammit.

Do you know where you are?

I had a table of two last night, a couple who were quite elderly. When I first greeted them, the man launched right in to ordering. Or trying to.

"We're here for your new salad I had on Friday!"
That sort of stopped me in my tracks, seeing as we don't have one.
His wife told me that he'd insisted them come here because she just had to try this new delicious salad. I asked if it was a the newest salad we have, even though it's been on the menu for about two months.
"No! It's the one you just started on Friday!"
I asked him a few questions, such as did it have chicken or shrimp. He couldn't remember. He didn't know what sort of dressing came on it. He couldn't remember anything about it, except that it was new.
"Did it come with cornbread?"
"Yeah! That's the one! We want two of those!" He ordered a drink, too, and then continued going on and on about how it was the brand new salad. I repeated the thing about cornbread, but this time I got "No! It didn't have corn bread!"

Back to the drawing board. I wanted to ask if he was sure he'd been at my restaurant, especially when he started saying it had onion rings on it. We have no salads with onion rings. We don't have any salads with fried onions. The only thing I could think of was a salad that has large pieces of raw red onion on it. As soon as I described it, he decided that salad was what he was after--"Yeah! That's it! The new one!"

That particular salad has been on our menu for about three years now.

It's always like this.

I have horrible days, horrible weeks, where I just want to punch every customer I see. I scrape and scrape to make my money. I get just to the breaking point, just to where I start applying for other jobs .... and then the clouds lighten.

I've gotten a ridiculous number of great tips the last three days. I'm honest to god not doing anything differently than ever. It's quite perplexing. I'm certainly not complaining--it's nice to be making some money, after all! But I'd really rather have steady, even averages than highs that are followed my ridiculous lows.

Of course, this means I haven't had any interesting customers, either. Everybody's been polite and kind. I did get stiffed tonight, but I'm 99.9% sure that was accidental. Overall, I've been quite content.

Superstitious or not, I still don't have a third arm.

Tonight when I picked up a plate from a table, I knocked over the salt shaker. I made a joke about being clumsy as the guy quickly set it up right, and I was turning to go when he said, "Wait! Throw some over your shoulder!"

I looked at my hands, one which had his dinner plate and the other which held a tray and several menus. I wanted to ask him to wait a minute while I grew a third arm for that, but instead of I laughed and said, "Why don't you do it for me?"

He looked confused.

That's a hell of a search term.

I've gotten used to people reaching this blog by looking for "waitress fuck" or something variation--apparently lots of people have a thing for naughty servers? But this one just .. hmm:

"granny offical manger fucked"

Highlight of last night.

Our cooks like to sing. "The Song That Never Ends" is just annoying, but when they're all doing their off-key version of "I Want It That Way" it's pretty amusing.

I don't remember how, but last night we ended up singing the Spongebob Squarepants song--all the cooks, the expo, and me. Loudly. Including the lovely, progressively louder ending.

Sometimes, I do love the people I work with.

A better night.

Nothing of note happened, really; Pot Smoking Manager was on, so it was all very chill and relaxed. If I had more nights like this, this blog wouldn't exist.

Fuck being a waitress.

Seriously. Fuck it.

Actually, tonight was just fine right up until the end. Other than painfully fucking slow. $33 on a close. Thank you very much, NFL. But I was talking to my coworkers and having fun, and I was getting good tips percentage-wise.

But the end of the night just ruined it all. At an hour and a half till close, I had no tables, except one couple who'd paid an hour before. There was about twenty minutes of stuff to do before we'd be done--and half of that I couldn't do that early for various reasons. There was literally nothing to do. So I was slowly eating my dinner and doing the crossword. Lapdog suddenly decides to grace up with his presence after being in the back for an hour, and promptly starts telling me to get moving, get going, there are things to do, roll some silverware or something.

Luckily about that time my stupid table finally left, so I was able to do the front of house closing stuff on that half of the restaurant. Fifteen minutes later I asked Lapdog if he wanted both of the closers to stay on, since there was nothing to do. He said no, and since Perpetua had two tables still camping out, I was elected to leave early. Which was fine with me, I had homework to do. With fifty minutes before close, everything was done--the soda machine dismantled, the floors done, etc. It was that freaking slow.

I expected a bit of a lecture when I took my checkout to the back. What I didn't expect was to be shut in the office with Lapdog for the next thirty minutes. The people from yesterday who I thought would complain did in fact complain. They sent an entire paragraph to corporate about me being inattentive. I didn't try to deny it; I flat-out told Lapdog that it was at the height of everything crashing around us and I dropped the ball on that table. I told him they didn't seem angry when they left, that Pot Smoking Manager could not even leave the kitchen at that point, and that's how things ended, but I acknowledged it was a low point of the evening.

I hoped that would be the end of it, that if I accepted responsibility for it without shirking that I could head off the lecture. And I think, had it been up to Lapdog, it might have been. Unfortunately for me, Chicken Little (see new "cast of characters" sidebar!) was there this afternoon and dealt with the first wave of complaints about the previous night's shift ... and she decided to issue me a formal written warning.

Knowing exactly what happened the night before, what a disaster it had been and how the entire night was a total clusterfuck for everyone involved .... she still wrote me up. I think there are two reasons for this. The more charitable reason is a simple ass-covering mechanism. The district manager will probably see the complaint from these people, and will probably ask what she's doing about it. So now she has a piece of paper to wave in his face as proof of "action".

The second reason, I think, is part of her Chicken Little mentality: when the sky is falling, focus on minutia. Not that pissed off customers are minutia, exactly, but the paper work is. The impression I got from the tone of the write-up was that this was the primary motivation: the wording was way too personal. For one thing, she brought up the people who called a few days ago accusing me of being rude after giving me a 20% tip. There was no real reason for that, since there was no documentation, she wasn't even there that night, and they were nutjobs anyway.

She also threw in a sentence about how I was obviously working too many hours to provide "excellent customer experiences". I interrupted Lapdog and told him that offends me--people make mistakes, it happens, and it's got nothing to do with me working too many hours. This is still a fairly light schedule for me compared to what I used to work, after all.

And then there was a passing reference to improving my "teamwork" and "closing duties"--apparently somebody complained to one of the managers and said I wasn't doing my part of the closing sidework! Whoever it was can shove that shit right back up their ass, because that is totally false. We divide it in half, and my half is always done, and if it takes me longer to do my portion than their I never ask them to stay. I think Perpetua is probably the complainer; she never takes a break to eat or even sit down, but instead rushes around non-stop and takes it upon herself to do more work than necessary. Since I tell her every damn time to leave it alone and I'm working on it, I'd say that falls under the heading of not my damn fault.

Anyway, the entire tone of this write-up was more personal than it should've been. CL always wants to blame someone for everything, and takes everything as a personal slight. I had to do write-ups when I was a manager, so I know how they're supposed to be done; so this just really irked me. I wondered if everybody who got a complaint about last night got a write up. I wondered if they, too, were threatened with shift loss and/or suspension.

I will say, it was one of those rare encounters when I remembered why Lapdog used to be my favorite manager way way back in the day. I really think if it'd been up to him, there would've been no write up. He was very understanding, and talked about other instances of people stewing over things and calling later, or saying everything was fine when they left and then calling trying to get something for free. He said those sort of things frustrate him too.

So when I left and burst into tears as soon as I stepped outside, it wasn't because I was angry at him (for once!). I was angry at CL for writing me up under the crazy circumstances of that shift; I was angry at her personal tone; I was angry she asked Lapdog to do it instead of waiting until she next worked with me; I was angry that I've been busting my ass trying to make enough money to pay my bills and this is the result.

Fml some more.

Lapdog managing tonight. He's been fielding calls all day from customers complaining about last night, and is treating anybody who worked last night like shit. I'm not looking forward to my turn to be lectured when I turn in my check out at the end of the night.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Highlights of Hell night.

Last night was a total clusterfuck, both for me personally and the store as a while. Highlights include:

-computer system totally crashing, resulting in lost tickets and ridiculous wait times.
-credit card system crashing separately of that, that was super fun.
-expo (Perpetua) having to leave because of yet another "family emergency", so Pot Smoking Manager had to expo.
-PSM completely screwing up expo, resulting in even more ridiculous wait times.
-one of my customers finding a spotted green cucumber beetle in his salad.
-my left contact lens rolling up in my eye and ripping in half, which meant I had to take it out and wander around with fucked up vision for the rest of the night.

Due to a combination of all of those, I forgot one of my tables was waiting to pay. They may have been staring at me or something, but my vision was so fucked up that .... yeah. They weren't happy, and they took their receipt with the corporate survey on it with them. I wouldn't be surprised if I get my ass chewed when I get to work today.

Thank god we had PSM last night, though, rather than Lapdog or GM--they would've flipped the fuck out and made everything ten times worse.

Idiot & Jackass of the night

I didn't have a bad night at all, but I do have stories!

We'll start with the jackass. Toward the end of the night, a middle-aged couple came in. They had a water, a tea, and shared a half price appetizer. When they had their money out, I saw there were three stacks of coins.

"This is exact for the bill," the man shoved a five, a one, and a stack of coins at me. Then he slid the other coins to me. "And this is your tip. It all adds up!"

There was a "fuck you" on my lips right then for sure. I held it back somehow and scooped up the half pound of change. I didn't even bother to count it. I saw three quarters, a few dimes, and a bunch of goddamn pennies. I don't mind change, exactly, because I do have a coin jar. But to give me nothing but coins with the snide "it adds up" comment? Fuck off!

The idiot was just amusing. She sent her kid's macaroni and cheese back to the kitchen because she "didn't realize it was made with milk." What fucking planet are you from, lady?

I survived kid's night.

Last night, for the first time in a year, I worked the horror that is "kids eat free night". After a string of horrible nights last year, I just told them I couldn't work Wednesdays. I'm sure you all can picture it -- the macaroni ground in to the carpet, the crappy times, the millions of Sprite refills. But after such a crappy weekend, I was so desperate for money that I picked up a shift. At first it was just a first cut, but then a closer got sick and I picked that up.

And it really wasn't so bad. I didn't have a section that allowed large tables, so I didn't get screwed that way. The only thing that sucked was that when I got there at 4, a table of three women were already camped out in my section. They were already done eating when I got there, and the bitches didn't leave until seven! They'd told the host they were just going to sit "until you get busy"--I guess the second time we went on a wait they realized maybe they should get their dumb asses out of there. I found out later that they'd come in before three. Now, my friends and I can talk all day too, but four hours in a restaurant? That seems extreme to me.

I wasn't too bothered though, because I was kept busy anyway. At about 4:30, fifteen people from a bank rolled in and decided to sit on the patio--which was closed, not set up, and covered in dried leaves, but whatever, people! As a joke, the managers like to "assign" the closed patio to somebody, and yesterday it was me, so I spent the first few hours of my shift essentially cocktailing to the group on the patio. So I wasn't too angry, although I did ask the GM if we could start changing those women rent.

I really lucked out with my tables with kids; they all tipped the would-be percentage instead of the actual, lower price. All in all, it wasn't a bad night; I'll be more likely to pick up Wednesday shifts now, at least until the next clusterfucking disaster!

For the fourth shift in a row ...

the universe kicked my ass and took my name. $15 tonight. Blood fucking ridiculous. I was scheduled at 5:30, so I figured my section would be totally full. It wasn't; only one table was occupied, by two old people who sat there watching the goddamn baseball game until about 7:30.

After 45 goddamn minutes, I finally got a table ... who had an iced tea, a soda, and chips. And sat for an hour or more. Then I had a table of two old people who apparently didn't think my undivided attention was worth more than 12%. Then I had two tables of one elderly person each. After eight o'clock we finally had a first cut, and I got three tables after that. One was a young family that had desserts; one was a middle aged couple who seemed stoned; the other was two twenty-ish girls, one of whom had a kid. They were tables 1, 5, and 6, respectively.

A couple of minutes after table 1 ordered their desserts, 5 was ready to pay. I took their card back to the kitchen to run it, and saw Perpetua assembling my desserts. At first I just said thanks, but then someone else started by me carrying one dessert too many. I told him to stop, it only got one chocolate sundae, and Perpetua snips back "Well it said two!"

I knew it didn't, and as I was directing what the correct desserts were, I was running this credit card. One damn second too late, I realized I'd run 5's credit card for 6's total. Fuck me. There's no way to cancel it at that point, so I let it go, then I ran it for the correct total. I took it out to the table and explained it to the table. I told them one charge would drop off, because it was voided, but if they were to go home and look at it right away, their statement would show two charges.

When I'd finished, they looked at me. And looked at me. There was absolutely no flicker of comprehension on either of their faces. I tried again; they asked me a couple of out-of-left-field questions that didn't match what I'd said at all, and I explained it again. I asked if it made sense; they looked at each other and didn't answer, or ask anything else. I apologized for it, told them one more time that they would only be charged once, and when they still didn't respond, I told them to have a good night and left the table.

Then I went to get the manager to pull back and void the first transaction. I didn't do it before because I didn't want the customers to wait while Lapdog lectured me about it--because I knew he would. He voided it after sighing as if it were the worst thing ever, and being bitchy, and I went about my business.

Ten minutes later, I realized I'm a goddamn moron. I was so flustered about the situation I'd screwed up again, and had voided the correct charge instead of the incorrect one! Fuck me, again. Sonofabitch. This is what happens when anyone messes up while working with Lapdog: we all get so fucking rattled we screw up even more.

Table 6 wanted dessert, and their ticket was still closed. In the past, the managers have said that in these situations there's nothing they can do. So I rang in table 6's food again, nomake, and then added the dessert. Once they had their dessert, and their ticket, I went in search of Lapdog.

I started by apologizing; I told him I knew it was a big pain in the ass, but I thought I knew how to fix it. I figured if I put in the excess difference as a "tip", and then gave him the cash difference, then the restaurant would be square. I knew it would be a paperwork mess.

He said no, he'd go in the back and get the credit card number off the computer and fix it! You know, like they always say they can't do! So he goes in the back, and I just lost it and started crying. Not because of him, but because all sorts of stress just seemed to come crashing in on me--and as I've mentioned before, I cry when I'm angry. I vented to my coworkers for a few minutes, and was okay.

So Lapdog comes out a few minutes later, and we get it all fixed. He voided the payment on table 6, so their check was there. Then he voided the items I'd re-rung. Then we closed the correct table number with the number he'd procured. He started lecturing me some more; and as soon as he paused to take a breath I jumped in. "I know. I used to have to deal with it all the time at (place I was a manager), I'm sorry. I know it's a giant pain in the ass."

He shut up then, and I figured that was the end of it. He tends to back off if you stand up to him.

A few minutes later, the snotty little girls at table six flagged me over to say I'd charged them the wrong amount for the damn nachos. Which I had--we had a special going on where people get happy hour prices, but the happy hour button doesn't work, and I forgot. I did not want to go find Lapdog and tell him I needed yet another thing. So I rang it in with the right button, and asked the cooks not to make it yet; then I transferred the old item to a separate table number so I could have it half discounted for my dinner later. I didn't want nachos for dinner, but it was better than another lecture from him.

Unfortunately, I did have to ask him for something later, because I needed manager approval for a second checkout. When I first got there, I accidentally hit "checkout" instead of "change section". I told him that, and he said something like, "Wow, you're really on top of things tonight."

Then he proceeded to tell me that the people with the credit card had called and complained that I was rude! I was so freaking pissed that I just very flatly told him I was not. He said they claimed I was rude and seemed annoyed I had to explain that I'd screwed up.

"No, I was not rude. I was frustrated because I'd explained it three times because they didn't understand and wouldn't answer me."

"Well, they said you were rude."

"I wasn't," I repeated, "and I'm done now except for waiting for silverware." When he didn't answer, I left the kitchen. I was so goddamn angry. If they wanted to bitch about me messing up with the credit card, that's fine. But to claim I was rude? Fuck them! And if I was so rude, why'd they leave me a 20% tip?

The weird thing is this ... I don't recall hearing the phone ring. It hadn't been that long since they left, and I hadn't been outside or anything. Suspicious.

I know I screwed up, really. I do. I was pissed at myself. But what pisses me off more is this: I should not have been afraid to go to the manager was this. That's what they're fucking there for! And if he hadn't been glowering at me, maybe I wouldn't have screwed up on which ticket was being voided. It's just ridiculous that every employees there is afraid to go to this guy with any issues. I've been a manager, in food service and in retail, and being a whiny bitch about things is no way to run the show.

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For the third night in a row ....

I went in to work smiling and happy, in a good mood, hopeful. And the universe kindly divested me of that hope.

At least last night it was in the form of too few customers, rather than an abundance of shitheads. Not that it makes any difference to my landlord who's still waiting on this month's rent.

Another night in hell.

I don't even have the energy to elaborate. That's what I get for having a good night on Tuesday, I guess.

Oh, it's snowing? No need to tip!

Everybody I waited on can fuck off.

Except the nice pierced people, and the couple who had only an appetizer. The rest of them can go straight to hell.

I'm no meteorologist ....

but I'm pretty sure it's raining bitches. (And I can't find a clip of that!)

Okay, maybe not exactly raining, but there were two horrible bitches tonight. The first came in with her husband and daughter. They're semi-regulars, and the husband is always nice as can be. The little girl is always sort of whiny ... and the mother is a total goddamn hag. She's mean to her daughter; never makes eye contact with her server; never says please or thank you; never says hello; and just snaps out her order.

Tonight they ordered a chip and dip appetizer before their dinner, which I rang in promptly. However, we had four servers on the floor and the place had just filled up again, so it did take maybe three minutes longer than usual. They were sitting at table 11, and one of my coworkers was at table 10 next door. I delivered their appetizer, and my coworkers stopped me on my way back to the kitchen. Apparently, right before I walked up with the appetizer the woman said quite loudly, "Didn't I fucking tell her chips and dip?"

Later, when I checked on how their dinner was, she said "we're fine NOW" as if I'd forgotten something. She didn't eat most of her dinner, as always; and as always they left a ten percent tip. It's so strange to me that her husband, who's so very nice, would put up with her acting that way in public.

The second bitch was a few hours later. I had a table of four, and I also had a three, a two, another two, a five, another two, and I think a three. We'd just cut to closers, which can be a hectic time. In this particular instance, three of the four entrees went out. The fourth was left in the window--but somebody discarded the ticket for the order, so nobody knew where the fourth plate was supposed to go. I saw it there, but I thought it was the start of the table at the top of the screen, which had an identical item.

A few minutes later I went by my four-top, which was in a sort of separate area from the rest of my tables. My fellow closer was standing at the table while one of the guys checked how his steak was cooked; nobody appeared to have eaten; I had no reason to think anything was wrong. So imagine my surprise when I asked how things were and was informed by the wife that "there was like a ten minute wait between the entrees!"

Oh, how I love the customer exaggeration. Thirty seconds becomes a minute; a minute becomes five; two minutes becomes ten. I apologized for the "wait", and asked if I could bring them anything else. The wife sort of snorted and leaned her forehead against her hand as if she just couldn't stand this. "Well, we're going to need some boxes," and she waved her hand over the table before covering her face again.

Oooookay. So I bring the boxes, which they predictably didn't use. The woman wouldn't look at me or answer me the rest of the meal, even when I addressed her directly and with a smile. Everybody else, including the guy whose steak had actually been delayed, was just fine. Bitch.

Despite the bitches, it was actually a good night. I got there at five, and had a seven table section (incredible!); within half an hour it had filled up. I got a rotation and a half in before the first rush ended; then we had another rush after first cuts, and another when we cut to closers. I left with $120 tonight after tip out and dinner. People were generous for the most part, and I was kept busy until the end.

In the end, I made $17/hour tonight in tips. I'm okay with that!

Thank you for testing my menu knowledge!

My very first table tonight was a couple with their son. They looked vaguely familiar, but half the people who come in do, so I didn't think much of it. They asked to try a couple of our wines, so I got them a few sips of each. They didn't like them; the man decided he wanted a rum and Dr Pepper, but the woman still didn't know what she wanted. After another ten minutes, she decided she didn't want anything "right now". She never did end up getting anything to drink, not even water.

Ten minutes later, she still didn't know what she wanted for dinner either. Five minutes after that, nothing. Five minutes after that came the quiz. I spent several minutes going over all the steaks, answering stupid questions like "how big is the 9 ounce steak", explaining all the sides, etc. etc. Five minutves later, no decision. They arrived at 5:30; at 6:05 they finally ordered. At 7:20 they left, and left behind a whole $4.

The thickly bearded men next to them lingered as well; so did the nuclear family on the other side. They finally moved when the dinner rush was over; I was a second cut, was there until 10, and had a whole eight tables.

Fabulous.

Swingers in the house.

Business was exceedingly slow all day (fuck you very much, NFL), so we all had plenty of time to observe a very odd table that came in today. Couple A and Couple B came in at different times and were seen introducing themselves to each other; they clearly didn't know each other. At first, they just sat with the people they came with, and talked and ate. Then it got weird.

Wife A was holding hands across the table with Husband B, as was Wife B with Husband A. A few minutes later, the wives were holding hands across the table, and the husbands had their arms around the wives.

Then the wives went to the bathroom, and when they came back they sat down with the opposite husband of the one they came with. So it ended up with husband A holding wife B, and vice-versa, for a while after their ate. And there was more cross-table hand holding.

They were there for hours, chatting and swapping who they were cuddling with. We all came to the conclusion that they were swingers meeting potential sex partners! At least it livened up the night.

Things fall apart.

Tonight was round two with the damn homecoming kids. Luckily for me, I had a section that doesn't accommodate large tables! I was especially grateful for that when a table of twelve high schoolers showed up. The first few were there a good half an hour before the rest .... to decorate the table. They'd brought place cards, balloons, garland, place settings, and little plastic "wine glasses" for the pitches of Shirley Temples they demanded. After monopolizing three tables for almost two hours, they left a $10 tip.

Of course, I didn't have to deal with them directly--I just had to dodge them on the way to my own section. I was doing great for the first 9/10 of the rush. Average tips, probably because people were pissed they had to wait; but I wasn't screwing up, everything was going well. Then, at the very end of the dinner rush ..... catastrophe.

It started with a table that ordered three desserts. One I make; two are made by the cooks. I got the one I was responsible for ready, and set it in the window to await the other two. Then I went about my business for a few minutes until I saw they still hadn't gotten their desserts. The expo knew they were ready, because she'd stuck the ticket over that window (separate from the main expo area). I assume she called for a runner .... and then forgot all about them. Now, if they were just grab-and-go desserts, that'd be one thing.

But one is served on a hot skillet, so I had to ask the cooks for it. I then ran a report and saw the desserts were already on 11 minutes. I called for a skillet again. No response, no skillet. For five minutes that went on; meanwhile I had been sat again at table 17, so I ran to my section; they were totally ready to order. I got the order and went back to the kitchen. As I was getting on the computer, I saw I finally had a skillet. No wooden thing under it, no dessert on it, no ice cream on said dessert, no hot sauce for the dessert ... but a skillet. So I got the wooden holder, I screamed for ice cream, and I finally got their desserts to them .... eighteen goddamn minutes after they'd ordered them! I tracked down GM and asked her to talk to the table; she did, and took their desserts of their ticket.

I finally got their ticket cashed out and they went on their way; I got 20% despite the issues. But that was a good chunk of time spent running back and forth, trying to get the attention of the cooks, trying to placate the guys and keep them informed, trying to find either manager and get them to stand still long enough to explain the situation ... all without neglecting my other four tables.

I continued shuttling around, getting refills and such; and at some point I pulled up the screen for table 17, I don't remember why ... and was immediately horrified. I hadn't rung in their food, and they'd been sitting for 20 minutes. I'd gotten their drinks rung in before seeing I finally had a skillet for my belated dessert, and then had forgotten to come back to do the rest. Sonofabitch. I rang it all in on the fly, told the GM what I'd done, and rushed out to apologize to them and get them an appetizer in the interim--because of course, one of their meals was a damn med well steak!

The customers weren't happy, but they weren't pissed; especially after the restaurant bought all their dinners. They even left me $5, which I didn't expect or deserve. They seemed nice enough, so I admit I did have a bit of hope for a tip, so I sneakily let them know what their bill would have been. When they were finished eating, I told them, "Well, the bad news is you had to wait; the good news is that me being an airhead saved you $60! We took care of everything, there's no ticket, so you're good to go!"

Luckily, that was at the end of the dinner rush, because it totally threw me off. I was so embarrassed, and so mad at myself. The adrenaline rush from running around for the past two hours was running out, too, and I was slightly shaky and couldn't focus because I was so irritated with myself. I was irritated at the cooks too--I know the ultimate responsibility was mine, but the point where I got thrown off was the dessert fiasco.

The timing was also lucky because that's apparently when half the staff lost their grip -- another server forgot to ring in food for 30 minutes, the cooks screwed something up, the expo screwed something up, and basically we were circling the drain. GM was getting annoyed, saying "we don't know how to be busy anymore!" Of course, she excused it on the cooks' behalf, saying "they can only maintain that level for so long!" Naturally that doesn't apply to anyone else, though, right? Three $1000+ sales hours in a row is only rough on the cooks.

Overall, the night just sucked, though; the dessert people were the only decent tippers I had--and with the glaring exception of the forgotten food, everyone got good service. I had several small groups of teenagers, and then some other people who said everything was fine but still felt the need to short me. Ah well.

One more week of homecoming to go ...

I love it.

What's better than coming in to a Friday night and having a three table section? That's totally full? Of people who just got appetizers, on all tables?

Oh yeah. Not that.
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