I got a table of 25 teenagers Friday night--I was about ready to scream. When I say "table", I mean they were taking up all the booths on one half of the restaurant. They trickled in, two and three at a time, not an adult in sight. I was livid--I was a closer, but hadn't been getting any tables for half an hour because they'd called to say they were coming. I tried to hide it, because there's no excuse for being rude even to snot-nosed noisy-ass rude little punks. Right?
As more of them arrived, though, I started to recognize a few of them, and was less pissed. I'd originally thought I was about to have a section full of screeching cheerleader types, but it turned out to be a bunch of theater kids. I have a soft spot for theater geeks, because my cousins are in theater; I probably should have been but was too shy. Anyway, I was less cranky then. I got all their names to go with their tickets, so by the end of the night I could get their attention if I needed to. They actually ended up being my favorite table that night.
I started to joke around with them a bit; one asked if he could pull a chair over to a booth, so I told him absolutely not. He pouted and said I'd have to throw him out, so I grabbed his jacket and pretended to haul him toward the door.
Another kid, at the other end of the section, was drinking lemonade. He asked if he could try all the flavors; I didn't think he'd make it through of them, but he did. So I said I'd try to make a peach flavored one. But when I got behind the bar to get the orange syrup, I saw a couple other interesting bottles and decided to play a joke instead. I gave him a lemonade doused with caramel, coconut, and kiwi flavored syrups. It smelled horrid, like rum or something.
Of course, I didn't tell him what it was, just said it was an experimental flavor. His face was priceless.