crackers

Put the crackers down m'am.

I realize you thought you were being a good mom, bringing those with you this morning when you left the house and got ready for a full day of shopping over at wal-mart.

But frankly, your kid doesn't seem to like them too much, judging by how loudly they are screaming as they crush them into microscopic pieces which I will have to "sweep up" from the carpet using a crappy broom.

Maybe you could actually pay attention to your child?

Nah, that's no fun.

baby momma

There is an entire section on our floor known as the 'baby momma' section. Here is where you frequently find two or three women, with an average of 3 kids apiece, enjoying their free kids meals, free bread, and free bitching. This area is one of THE WORST sections on our entire floor to be assigned, as the hostesses are constantly seating it with non-tippers. As soon as people begin demanding free items, a server can see their tip average decreasing from a measly 10% down to 0.

Honestly - who STIFFS a waiter?? I know that every American citizen knows they are supposed to tip. Clearly some people do not understand the idea of WHY or HOW MUCH is APPROPRIATE, but it's not like these people have never been introduced to the concept.

Can't afford to tip?
Don't go out to eat.*



*I suppose you could always go over to McDonald's and jump on the lawsuit bandwagon when your kids become even MORE grossly obese.

"I need a copy of yo' socia securrity card" (no typos here folks) demanded Shanay.
"What for? I know on the tax forms it says you need ID, but my passport is enough. It says so right here, see?" <--my response.

"I need a copy of yo socia securrity card! I gotta have it for when the lady asks how I know what your social securrity numba is! You can't work here unless I have it."

Oh, incompetent incompetent secretary, for that's what you are, Shanay. Don't you know that's not legal?

Consideration

After seeing this link over at Lobster Boy's blog (rlserver.blogspot.com), I had to post a link to the actual cards themselves.

http://www.coudal.com/shhhcards.pdf

Scourge of the Earth

And the Lord said unto them, "Behold, after church ye shall go to O'Charley's, and plague the servers with your false complaints and greedy demands for free bread."

Why is it that sundays are well-known to be the worst day to work in the restaurant industry?

50% of our stores' comps on sundays occur in the hours between 8 and 10, thus leading us to consider closing earlier to avoid this problem.

Our store now pays more than minimum wage, on top of your tips, simply to ensure that some servers will show up for sunday dinner.

I won't lie - I hate sundays with a passion.

It also makes me really sad to see how many people come straight from church to act like heathens in our restaurant.

One wednesday a woman asked me if I needed her party to pray for anything for me while they said the blessing.

My response?

"Patience."

Celebration

"We're celebrating!" said the middle-aged man, with a sort of quietdesperation.

"That's great! What are y'all celebrating?" I replied.

"Our divorce!"

....

"We've been seperated for over seven years," he said.

"I'm only nine years old," said his daughter.

Really - what is the appropriate response to this?

bleeding blue

"What, are you like serving coloreds tonight?"

For lack of a better response, I merely replied, "Excuse me?"

"Are you serving coloreds tonight? I ain't never had a white waitress here before," stated the androgynous young woman at my two-top.

Absolutely flabberghasted, I struggled to find some sort of an appropriate response. I ended up mumbling something about how there just weren't that many white servers in our store (true), and I had no idea why there weren't, but that it didn't matter to me, nor did I notice it.

Given that this girl probably thought I was going to be terrible to her and give her and her dinner date terrible service, I made sure I gave them excellent service. I brought them rolls and refills before they even knew they wanted them, and made sure a manager went by to see how their service and food were. It was a slow night, I was in the glass house, and I was able to go above and beyond any expectations they had.

I must have impressed them - she left me twelve bucks :-)

Sociopathy

I'm fairly sure that one of our hostesses is a sociopath.

A sociopath is an individual who lacks almost all concern for the welfare or feelings of others. Not all sociopaths are psychopaths, nor do all of them possess the necessary IQ points and social skills to become maniacal businessman. All of them have an overwhelming ego and an unstoppable selfishness.

I have no hard proof or statistical evidence to support my claim, but I do have hours of interaction with this charming (note: sarcasm) female who most definitely is both incredibly selfish and totally incapable of consideration.

Clearly, she is one of those lacking those critical IQ points to become a really (in)famous sociopath.

-When seeing a good server assigned to a section with slow-turnover and limited tips, her response was to laugh in front of the server's face, clearly taking delight in someone else's misfortune.

-Despite repeated requests to ease up on a server, she ignored these pleas and did as she pleased, thus limiting the amount of people complaining to her.

-Has no friends, and does not seem to care.

-Repeatedly tells managers that she does not care about what the servers want, despite repeated complaints about her to management.

-Enjoys the unhappiness of others, whether its exhaustion or an actual accident. She wants to see it, just so she can laugh.

Senior Citizens

"Uh, even though we a party of eight, we gonna be payin' seperate" stated the elderly gentleman as he pointed his finger at the "We automatically add a 15% gratuity" statement on the menu. Translation: we don't want to tip you fifteen percent. And according to my managers, they don't have to tip me, even though our menu says otherwise. So no 15% was applied. Apparently tipping 15% was considered an astronomical and totally unreasonable amount, even though any one working in the food industry can tell you it's considered standard.

If your server speaks fluent English and doesn't spit in your food in front of you, you better tip them 15%.

"Can you bring us some rolls please? No? Or how bout some crackers? We got some diabetics at the table."

Rest assured ma'm, there is more than enough sugar in the sweet tea you just chugged down to alter anyone's glucose/insulin levels, diabetic or otherwise. I have single-handedly witnessed the epidemic of diabetes and obesity in the south, and it's not a pretty sight.

A sampling of the gentleman's comments throughout the course of their meal: "how about you go get me about two-hunerd dollars from a cash register? can you do that for me?" my reply: "sir, I don't think there are $200 in the whole store", and I wasn't kidding. "Can I go wash some dishes? How 'bout that?" "Sir, we don't pay our dish washers enough to make it worth your while" Yes, I actually said that with a straight face. to a CUSTOMER. "Y'all got any senior citizens discount?" "Not to my knowledge, sir".

The bill was over $110, they left me ten bucks.

I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times.

If you can't afford to tip, don't go out to eat.

The Fraud

Every waiter blog posts on the subject of frauds. These seemingly ordinary people are nothing more than theives, out for a free meal. Given my anthropology background, I figured I would start keeping a record from them. As Joao pointed out, "That would be really interesting - to take the perspective of a waitress".

Enter the two women. Both are morbidly obese, something I see on a regular basis given my restaurant's location in the south. They are seated at my table, and I promptly stop by to take their drink orders. Before I can say that I will return with their drinks, they are asking me about bread. Le sigh.

I am a closer. I've heard nothing but requests for bread all day. Yes, I know you want bread, and I will bring it to you as soon as I physically can. In the meantime, you will have to wait. I dutifully bring them their drinks, and take their orders. What starts off as a complex order, largely consisting of "I'm too lazy to read the menu, what can you make for me? I don't want that. I won't want that either. I don't want that. Burn my steak" is quickly changed as I walk away. The girls holler (yes, they hollered. No polite waiting for these two) that they want to change their order to something much similar. Already I feel like shooting them, and then myself. I drop off more bread than I am supposed to, since I know otherwise they will continue to run me into the ground.

And yet, they still do. I juggle my other tables, and keep them plied with their bread until their food finally arrives. Alas, five minutes later, Baby Phat tanktop calls me over.
"I'm sorry ma'm, but this is cold, and I'm just not satisfied."
"Would you like for me to have it heated up for you?"
"No, no, I'm just not satisfied". Given her inability to use anything other than a speech that has clearly worked easily for her in the past, she seems flustered by my immediate unwillingness to comp her entire meal. I send over Luara, one of our newer managers. Laura speaks to her, and returns to the kitchen. I immediately tell her that she should NOT comp the food as half of it was eaten, and the girl is clearly lying. Laura takes half off, reasoning "well, she asked for a discount". I drop off the checks, and am immediately called back. "I don't understand why I have to pay for this!" states Baby Phat. My response: "The manager said that when she spoke with you, you asked for a discount." Baby Phat, "I'M NOT PAYING FOR THIS I DON'T THINK I SHOULD HAVE TO".
I return to the kitchen, inform Laura, who comps the meal.
I am stiffed.
No one apologizes to me.
Secretly I hope she will return to my section some day, and by a cruel twist of fate, choke on her piece of bread. I will stand over her laughing, and say "I don't think I should have to help you".

Everyday Exploitations

I finally worked up the nerve to email the bigwigs of the company and end up getting no response for several days. Hardly professional, but what about this business is? When they finally do respond, it is to belittle me for not speaking to my managers directly, for my wish to stay anonymous, and more importantly, for my wish to conduct correspondence via email.
I am no fool - I want written proof of my complaints, and written proof of their response, or lack thereof.
Why would I speak to a manager when it is they who are messing around with people's hours?
I'm going to start checking the admin function, so that when I see I am clocked out I will immediately leave the restaurant.
I don't work for free, especially not for people like you.