I honestly do not know where these people come from. They blow my mind with their retarditude.
The first one to make me roll my eyes on Thursday night was the woman who asked if the steak on our diet menu is small.
"No, it's actually a seven ounce sirloin," I informed her.
"Oh, well, if it's under (so many) calories it must be really small!"
"It's seven ounces, it's a very good size." I repeated.
"Well, what about that one?" she pointed to a picture on the flyer of diet menu items. I blinked. It was the same steak. Christ on a pogo stick. I didn't even know how to answer without saying snotty, so it took me a moment to decide to act stupid too.
"Oh, let me see." I peered at the menu with my best dumb-blonde expression. "Oh, yes, that's the (insert same damn steak name), so it's going to be the seven ounce steak."
"Well, how big is that? It must be small."
At this point her husband said in exasperation, "It's seven ounces."
The woman was peering at the table next to them, so I took advantage of it. "They're having the seven ounce sirloin, so that's the same size as the (diet steak)."
"But they have a baked potato!" she snapped.
"Right," I sighed. "It's the same size steak, not the same item."
She ended up ordering the regular seven ounce sirloin, with a baked potato, and not finishing it.
The next table wouldn't even give me their drink order, saying they needed a few minutes. They stopped the next passing server to snap that they were ready to order. Ten minutes later, the woman comes stomping across the restaurant to ask me how long their dinner is going to be because they have to be in the next town in 25 minutes. This was the middle of the dinner rush, with a full lobby.
Then there was the guy who, when I brought him the check, asked for a pen. I gave him one; he then opened the book, looked at the ticket, and asked, "Where do I sign?" I politely told him that he hadn't given me his credit card yet. "Oh, okay. So ... where do I sign?" Again, I tried to explain I couldn't give him a credit card slip until he gave me the fucking card. He then opened his wallet and gave me ..... cash.
Even more fun tonight: my work wife had a table ask her ... "do you have napkins here?"
11 comments:
Was the last guy old [dementia] or drunk? I can't even imagine.
And I would've simply answered "NO" to the napkin question. Get.a.clue.
Napkins. jeesh.
I love your word retarditude, it is my new word of the day for tomorrow at work. LOL
"No we don't. Use your shirttail just like you do at home".
I find that I usually have to repeat the same thing, three times before my "special" customers actually understand what I'm trying to tell them. It makes you wonder what these people do for a living. I hope it isn't communicating with another human being.
Yeah if that had of been me I'd have a mouth full of blood and a few home made tongue piercings by home time
First table today:
"I think I want to add a salad, what kind of salads do you have?"
Turning his menu to the page with side salads, "well we have four different salads. ___is my favorite"
"what kind of salad is this?" pointing to a picture of a loaded baked potato.
"sir, that is a baked potato"
"that's what I want, a baked potato salad"
Second table:
"what kind of soup do you have today?"
"we have a creamy potato soup, topped with bacon, cheese, and chives."
"is that all?"
"yes sir, that is our only soup."
" do you have French onion soup?"
Luckily the day got better.
I'll agree that she was dumb, but I sorta empathize with the steak woman. I think she just couldn't visualize how big a 7 oz steak is. I wouldn't be able to either. Not that that excuses her from being a pain about it (or being dumb and ordering the same steak off the regular menu because it seemed bigger there).
Hey girlie - I hope you get this - you won a prize on my blog - come visit please. :D
[So happy you won too!]
hi! long-time fan, finally got around to starting my own blog. hope it turns out as entertaining as yours :)
check it out if you have a chance!
Hey Cranky! I've been thinking about starting my own blog about working at a late-night corporate sports bar. I'm a huge fan of yours and would love to get an opinion/feedback from you! -Cara
Hey! I have one for you.. There are 4 girls at my booth.. Smells like ghetto trash.
one girl says "Hey,They have seafood special!" The other girl says "That ain't seafood,Thats fish!"
Ummm..ok! You tell me where fish comes from?!?
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