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.