Saturday, January 16, 2010

Use your words, not your pointy old lady knuckles.

A few days ago I had a table of two cranky old women. I've never seen so many wrinkles, or smelled so much AquaNet, at one table. One of them was only moderately bitchy, but the other had a shrill, scratchy voice befitting a harpy.

"Where's our beers?" she screeched at me as I walked by, carrying a tray full of drinks for a different table. They had been waiting all of two minutes for said beers, and knew full well we were busy--they'd waited in the crowded lobby for a table. I politely told them the bartender was busy, but they'd be there soon. A while later, Harpy was making snippy comments about where their salads were.

"Are our dinners gonna come or what?" she yowled, again while I was attending to other people.

"As soon as it's cooked, ma'am." I tried to be polite. Finally, they got their salads, and I hoped she'd be so busy stuffing spinach in her pie hole she'd be quiet. After they'd had a few minutes, I asked how things were; they both said they were fine. I then turned to talk to another table, but ended up standing in place for a moment waiting for a coworker to move. So I was still standing next to the old hag, just with my back turned to her ... when I felt a thump! on the back of my arm.

The old bitch fucking smacked me! She didn't even try to get my attention by speaking--if I was close enough to touch, I was close enough to speak to. Instead, she reached out and smacked me with the back of her hand, hard enough I heard it as well as felt it.

I rotated slowly on the spot as she withdrew her claw. "Yes?"

"Isn't there supposed to be some sauce or something to dip this in!" she jabbed at her salad, and I saw that yes, Idiot Expo had forgotten her dressing. Which she could have asked me when I was talking to her fifteen seconds before, instead of fucking smacking me.

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    SkippyMom said...

    Holy crap. I would've eaten the tip on this table [yeah, right like you were getting one anyway] but the NUMBER ONE rule of being a guest is You.DO.NOT.touch.your.server.

    But to HIT you? Oh, I would've gotten the dressing along with the check, brought it back and told her "You can pay when you are ready." And then explain why I wasn't waiting on her anymore.

    I know it is easy for me to write that on here - as everyone needs their job. But I have a great fear of being hit and this would've done me in. I hope one of the better managers was on duty.

    Naseem said...

    You should have grabbed her hand flicked it away. I can't believe someone would do that. She wouldn't like it if someone pushed her along at the supermarket because she wasn't walking fast enough what makes her think its okay to touch you.

    JumpIt said...

    We had a table of 3 hit a server once (these people were CRAZY). He dropped what he was doing, called for the manager, and the manager escorted them out. They hadn't even finished their dinners, and he made them pay and leave.

    On another note, I've had something like that happen to me. Not a full out hit, but a little whack and grab on the back of my arm too. I turned, gave them a glare, and marched off. Another server told me what they needed so I did the same thing Skippymom said to do - I dropped off their refill with their check and ignored them the rest of the night.

    IrasciblePlatypus said...

    Couldn't you press assault charges on that old hag?

    Common Waitress said...

    I don't mind if a guest touches me. I don't get offended. A smack would offend me. I would have told my manager. SkippyMom is right, eat the tip, and do whatever you could- full extent. Fuck people who do that. I'm surprised you didn't say anything, but I'd probably be passive too, until I got into the kitchen.

    AZWaitress said...

    Wow. Just Wow.

    purplegirl said...

    You guys are all right, I probably should have been more direct about the situation. I was just so surprised! And I did tell good old Pot Smoking Manager, but he didn't do anything--nor would any of the others, for fear of "offending" paying customers.

    I just near-ignored the bitches the rest of the time. The other one, who didn't touch me, paid--and did leave me a 30% tip, which shocked the hell out of me. Maybe she was embarrassed by her crotchety old hag of a friend.

    Anonymous said...

    You are such an accomplished writer and a droll observer. I fell out of my chair laughing reading this story. What a lovely blog!

    Aunty Pol said...

    WOW...Smacking..nope..over the line.

    BTW,,,congrats..I tried to post a hug but the verification hates me tonight !



    Mary Sheehan Winn said...

    hey, you know she's a widow right? and You know WHY, right?
    'cause he WANTED TO! :D

    OK, now I can go to bed and read my book after catching up here.
    Enjoy your time off!

    purplegirl said...

    Anonymous, thank you! :)

    AP, thanks! I turned off the word verification for now, hopefully it'll straighten out soon.

    LOL Mary, you're hilarious. :) Thanks for coming by to catch up! :)