Friday, May 6, 2011

Sick of the midget sections.

I am seriously fucking sick of the teeny tiny sections. Four tables, okay, I can handle that. I'd rather have five or six, but I can live with four. It's a decent size. If I get one table of campers, I still have three others to rotate. But three fucking tables? Really? It's insulting to a server of my experience. Strangely enough, I don't go to work to not make money.

I had one of those sections tonight. On a Thursday night with a full lobby and a wait list, it is absolutely fucking ridiculous for every server in the place to be wandering around bored.

My first table was Salmon Guy. FML. Once he and his son finally left, I got sat with two old ladies who really just made me want to stab them. For one thing, they would not speak the fuck up. I was standing directly under a speaker, so consequently I couldn't hear half of what they were saying. One of them kept going on and on and on and on about ladybugs and some thing about the spots on their backs being spirits or some shit – my fault for having ladybug buttons on my shirt, I guess.

They sat for two hours, sharing an entree (awesome), sipping wine, and talking to me about ladybugs every time I walked by. After two hours of this shit, they finally left. Oh wait, no their didn't. They inched around the restaurant looking at all the pictures on the wall. I hate it when people do that, because I feel like I can't clean their table or pick up their book until they're out of the door. In this case, I'm glad I did wait, because if they'd still been in the building I might have lost my job.

Their bill for their two hour stay came to $20.15. The original tip written in was three dollars. Then that was scratched out, and two dollars was written in it's place. Two dollars, for two hours taking up my 1/3 of my tables. A six-seater booth, to be precise. During the entire dinner rush. The entire time we had a wait, their weird old asses were taking up my table. And for this I got two bucks.

But wait! I also got a note on the top of the receipt saying, “Nice to meet you ladybug lady!” and next to that a little sketched ladybug. Fuck you. It was not nice to meet you, because you cost me money with your camping bullshit.

That table was basically cursed. I just realized that my third table there also camped out, but at least it was after cut, when I had a six table section, and I got a decent tip.

Meanwhile I had white trash, teenagers, teenage white trash with their baby, a woman who was pissed her daughter's daiquiris were $6 each, hillbillies who ate their bites of steak off their knives, and another table that was angry their food wasn't half-priced (It wasn't on the half-priced menu, you dumb bitches, so don't fucking argue with me). I think you can imagine how well they tipped me.

I was just plain angry tonight because of all this. At one point I dropped a stack of to-go boxes, and instead of picking them up I stomped the shit out of them. Felt good!


SkippyMom said...

Poor to go boxes. They didn't do anything to you. :wink: j/k

I don't understand the concept of a three table section. I guess times have changed so much that so many people are demanding that mgt. wants to assure perfect service. [Which is possible with more tables, we know] I would lose my mind from boredom with just three tables.

Rachel said...

Ugh--my soon-to-be-ex employers are obsessed with giving servers tiny sections. Most of us have 3 top sections on weekend nights--I've learned to flip them, but I still don't make shit compared to what I used to. Their grand rationale? That servers can better take care of three-top sections than four or five. These people have me on the verge of researching labor laws and building a civil case out of paying employees 'tipped employee' wages, but making it impossible for them to make tips.

Sauce said...

I would die of boredom with a three table section! I honestly think that when you have such small sections like that you actually run the risk of over serving people and bugging the shit out of them; after all there is a fine line between just right service and being a total annoying bitch.

That's why I refuse to work UFC nights anymore - small sections with all campers. Yes, I can get awesome tables and make $200 or I can get teenagers who only order soda and make $20. The variation just isn't worth the stress to me. Thank goodness for some seniority.

JoeinVegas said...

But, isn't a pleasant talkative table better than a big tip?

(yea, right, tell the electric company that when their bill shows up)

Bouncin' Barb said...

Now I know why it was so hard to get a job at the upscale restaurants in my hometown. Because that's where you made money. The tips were higher because of the check average. And you didn't have to bust your ass when these tables were pretty much there for the evening. Drinking wine and champagne. I don't miss it!