I can't even tell us apart

Two Words: First word, sounds like…. chicken

This situation happens to me on average more than four times a day. I have a guest who frequents the restaurant often. They come in knowing what they want but never remember the name of the dish. Then they will describe it to me until I guess what it is. Finally, once I’ve listened off half of the menu they magically remember.


People, people, people! Why don’t you take five seconds out of your day and look at the menu. Even better just remember what the dish is called. If this dish is your “favorite” it shouldn’t be so hard to remember the name of it. Stop being so lazy I am sick and tired of paying some weird version of charades with you until you magical remember what the dish is called.

Part Two of : Pet Peeves

When grownups ask for things children would normally get/do.

Example:
Shirley Temple,
Ketchup with steak or chicken,
Use's the wrong fork,
Cut their pasta,
Use the bread plate for salad and salad for bread.

As much as I hated, when my parents would give me the evil eye from across the table. Each time I held my fork incorrectly,I have to thank them for it. Because of them, I don’t look like a total primate sitting at the table.

Top Chef.

Recently I have run into, what I guess would be considered “guest complaints” about our food. Now these complaints are not about reasonable things such as; “My steak is overcooked” or “My mashed potatoes are cold”. Please, speak up if we serve you food that isn’t up to par. My pet-peeve here isn’t the fact that these people are complaining. It is how they are complaining about it.
Here’s my story to further explain.

I walked up to my table after their food had been dropped to check on them. After asking them if everyone was happy (they were)and coming back later to check and see if anyone needed a box or wanted coffee and dessert. The man at my table chooses to share with me that he really did enjoy his entrée. BUT, there are just a few things he would change to the dish.  He proceeds to tell me what he would do to make this dish just THAT much better. Sir, do you really think I have any power what-so-ever to change anything about our food? [News flash: I don’t]. Also, I highly doubt you are any kind of expert when it comes to food because this is what you order:

Steak- Well done with a glass of white zinfandel (who are you? My 87 year old Grandma) and you poured enough ranch on your salad, the lettuce turned white.

So far you have gotten a feel for what is going on in my head throughout my shifts. However, this clip from Kjell Bjorgen is how I actually act at my tables. Real Talk.

Part-one of my new segment: Pet Peeves.

Making out with your date at the table is gross. Go to the restroom or save it for the car. I am already about to vom from the stench of your colon. I don’t need to see you stick your tongue down your date’s throat. On another note bringing your prom date to a family restaurant… Not classy and probably won’t get you laid. Looks like you’ll be a virgin until college.

Excuse me, I think your child is eating the crayons.

Its date night for you and the ole-ball-in-chain and either at the last minute the babysitter cancels or perhaps you are trying to cut corners and save a few bucks and not hire a sitter at all. I get it, we're in a recession. But the next time you choose to bring your child out to eat with you, please of the love of all things sacred: take care of your child. Crayons and a highchair are not an adequate substitute for a babysitter while you’re enjoying at bottle of overpriced  house wine and a reasonability price seafood dish. So please order your child a meal and if they start to cry get off your ass and bring them outside until they can control themselves.

WHY!!!!?????!!!!

I ask myself these questions each shift I work.

: Why is everything broken?

: Why are we always running out of food/ supplies?

: Why do better looking people get better tips?

: Why do funnier people get better tips?

: Why does my job always feel like the movie “Waiting”- (if you haven’t seen it, watch it and then watch it again)

: Why does the host never sit good-looking guys in my section?

: Why do the same people always seem to sit in my section?
* Should I say something to them? Do they remember me? Hopefully I gave them good service.

: Why are we consistently out of the most popular item?

: Why does it feel like I am the only one refilling the same things over and over again?

: Why is this coworker walking so slow? Hurry the f*ck up!

: Why do I have to dress like a man?

: Why are we on a wait? I have two tables open.

: Why does the person sitting at my table think I give a damn about their church cult? Stop giving me pamphelts and trying to save my soul.

: Why the hell am I still on? Someone needs to let me go home.

Thought You were the Homie, Guess Not

Because tipping is such a big part of my life at work this will not be the only blog post I have about tipping. Honestly I could write a whole blog on the topic alone. But today’s post is about a situation I had with someone who at one time I thought was my friend.

Every so often my restaurant has promotions and great deals on food. During one of our promo’s a few of my friends came in and sat in my section one night I was working. Now the custom rule for tipping your friend is easy. You simply over tip them because you don’t want your friend to think you’re a cheap ass. Even better you don’t want to be the main target of bad gossip within your group of friends over the next few days. Sadly enough a buddy of mine didn’t get the memo on this customary practice. Not only did my friend give me a shitty tip (.73 cents to be exact) but throughout the meal he was trying to get as much free stuff as possible. Not to mention he was already getting a killer deal on his dinner. This put me over the edge, at first I thought it was a joke and he would hook me up with free drinks at the bar later on that night. But no, nothing of the sort happened. The next morning I rolled over picked up my cell phone and deleted him from my contacts. I should have gone as far as removing him off of Facebook but that could have started a social feud I was not ready to fight.

Dickerson, party of two.

Now that you have some background information I’m going to let my guard down from here on out. Sorry if I offend any of you with my stories, advice and just plan bitter ranting; which will happen. This blog isn’t written for the light-hearted.

Back in my hosting days, after I came to the realization that hosting wasn’t all the glitz and glam I dreamed it would be. I slowly started to become more jaded. It seemed like the only people I ever dealt with were extremely rude. After dealing on average with; 50 overweight, hungry, self-center people a night. I finally was able to pick out what my biggest pet peeve from the restaurant industry was and still is today. That is; when people walk up to the hosts stand feeling they have all the entitlement in the world to say anything they want to anyone. Then get an attitude with me about the wait time. Of course at the time I did what any good employee would do or more like any employee that has decent people skills. I would give my biggest fake smile and be as polite as possible assuring them their name will be called as soon as their table was available. Now at the time this is what I was thinking. “Hey buddy, no one is holding a military firearm to your head making you wait at this restaurant for a table. If you have issues with the wait time then leave. Don’t take out your anger on me because I simply take your name down and give you a buzzer that alerts you when your table is ready. I highly doubt you’re starving or on the verge of going hungry so please stop being so mellow dramatic and grow up. You will eat sometime soon. And if you are the rare case that is on the verge of going hungry, please answer this question for me: why the hell are you waiting in line for 45 minutes at a restaurant for food? Shouldn’t you find a quicker way to feed yourself? Just saying.

Hey There Delilah

Word to the wise: Don’t come to a restaurant with ten people order Salmon and other dishes that take more than 7 minutes to cook and expect to eat, pay and leave all within a 30 minute time frame…. Not going to happen. You might have better luck at the drive through.

The Beginning of the End.

So let’s start at the beginning, for most of my teenage years I was an aspiring hostess. But that was back when I was still a naïve young soul. I used to think to myself, “WOW, those girls that stand in the front of the restaurant must have the best job in the world. All they do is stand around, look really cute, make small talk for about 100 steps and get paid for it. Sign me up!” Somehow all I had to do was land a job, as a hostess and life would be golden. This is where my journey begins. After the rigorous two hour interview process and a Meyers Briggs test later. I landed my dream job at my current restaurant! This friend is what I call the beginning of the end.

Introduction

Up until this point in my life, some of my greatest blessings stem from, at times what I believe to be the two biggest mistakes I’ve ever made: 1.Joining the food service industry. 2. Working for a large chain restaurant. Granted I have to be thankful for a few things this life choice has given me, the friendships and relationships I’ve developed over the past four years. As well as the respect for any person who works in any type of service industry. However, at the mere age of 22 I feel my once kind-hearted soul has been sucked out of me and replaced with a bitter, resentful, more sarcastic version of myself. Someone who I use to see myself being at the age of 65, three times divorced, bankrupted, living in a retirement center, my kids pay for because even they don’t want to deal with me. Throughout this blog I will share my story of the jaded waitress with you. I have chosen to keep the name of the restaurant a secret as well as the names of anyone I choose to write about. Cheers!