White trash and hicks.

I knew my good luck this week would come to a halt eventually; it always does. It was an exceptionally brutal crash tonight, though. The entire night was bullshit, but these two tables were the worst.

I had the fucking three table section again. In addition to being small, it's next to the bar, which is naturally noisy; there's also a speaker in your ear at every table. My first table was five people who were just as southern as could be, and couldn't appreciate those facts. The bitches wouldn't speak the fuck up. That was a problem the entire time; I kept having to ask them to repeat themselves, even after I turned down the music. Their bill came to $83, and after I delivered it I saw them all scrutinizing it line by line, looking shocked. I'd looked it over before delivering it, so I knew there was nothing wrong; but I was surprised they didn't try to argue with about it anyway. I brought them their change, making sure to give them adequate bill options for a tip, but when I saw one of the youngest (it was a mom and her four sons) picking up the change I knew I was screwed. Sure enough, $5 on $83. Fuck. You.

At the same time, I had a table of four that was being a massive pain in the ass. One of them, a woman with a thoroughly 90s hairstyle, a ripped shirt, and a loud, foul mouth, had been at the bar before squatting at one of my tables. Trashy's mother and father and her sister were with her; her mother asked a question I get occasionally from morons: "You used to have nachos, now all you have a chili cheese nachos! Why'd you get rid of your nachos?" Are you fucking kidding me? It's the same goddamn thing! They stuck another word in the name! But I had to explain that they were the same, other than there's a little more sauce with the meat rather than being just dry ground beef thrown on there. She just kept looking at me like I was stupid, no reaction, just blankly staring at me. I hate that shit.

Trashy made eye contact and said please and thank you, so I was starting to think she wasn't so bad. Her sister was perfectly polite; the only problem we had was she didn't pay attention to what she was ordering for appetizers, but she didn't blame me for it when one wasn't what she expected. Her father couldn't comprehend our "make your own sampler" sort of thing, which was frustrating. And it wasn't like Trashy's parents were elderly, we're talking maybe late fifties.

At the end of their meal, they told me they wanted three separate tickets: parents, Trashy, and sister. When I brought the tickets, though, Trashy ordered two tequila shots--and rolled her eyes when I asked which ticket to put them on. She said to put them on her parents' ticket and she'd give them the money for it, which I suppose made sense in her world. So they get their tequila, and I give them their tickets; Trashy mutters something about she wanted to pay for all the drinks, despite what she'd said five minutes earlier, but then told me it was fine. The mother paid with a card and left me $2.25 on $25. The sister also used a car, and left four dollars cash on her $35 ticket.

Trashy paid with cash, a twenty dollar bill. She got $2.14 cents back. The fucking bitch left me the fourteen cents--and another dime.

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