Not all crazy people that come to our restaurant actually eat in the restaurant.

My manager yesterday informed me about a little doozy she was dealing with. A customer had contacted the restaurant to inform us that they had ordered take out and that their shrimp pizza didn’t have enough shrimp and was burnt on the bottom. Also, all most all of the the other items they ordered were cold.

For the most part this sounds like a valid complaint. The only problem is that the person said this experiance happened on Jan. 13 and the letter THEY MAILED TO US (yes, as in snail mail) was postmarked March 26!

You know how when you’re always unsatisfied with a product you purchased, you want to wait a good 2 months before you say something, cause maybe you not sure you’re really unhappy. Plus you’re afraid of the telephone!

Last night I go to take an order from a table. When I get to the last woman (I would say mid to late 30’s) she says

“I’ll have the Cobb salad don’t let the bacon and chicken touch no egg extra avocado oh and add red onions…” she says it so fast I can barely keep up. She then  says something else and turns to her friends and smiles. I hadn’t heard what the last part was, so I asked her to repeat it, she says nothing for a second and keeps weirdly smiling. Then she says to her friends, “That’s my line in the movie”.

Me:??????!?!?!?!?!?!?!????

I say, (trying to understand everything) “So you want the Cobb…” She cuts me off with “No, I was just kidding, I’ll have the Kabobs with mashed potatoes.” 

Oh, I get it. Because she’s a method actor, now is a great time to work out her scene with a real life waiter.

I hope she spends her life on the casting couch and never gets another part.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve said anything, and that’s just because I’m lazy. However, this story is too awesome to not share. 

There is this woman who comes into our restaurant fairly often. I see her usually once every 2 weeks or so, but I assume she comes in more often than that as all the waiters know her. She is a wheelchair bound, maybe 50ish woman who always looks unhappy. I’ve gotten her to smile once in a while by talking back to her. But for the most part, she’s a miserable woman. She always comes in with this Hispanic gentleman who looks just a few years younger than her, and I can’t tell if he’s the male nurse, or the boyfriend. He’s nice enough, but hardly talks. 

Now, all of you are hearing this is second hand, sorry. Apparently, she called up the other day asking for one of the waiters named Will. She told Will that she just realized that she has been over tipping everyone for the last couple of years (which she hasn’t, 15-18% I’d say) and now that her dog needs some surgery, if he would put up a jar for all the waiters to give back some of the money. You know, just like $5-$10 from each server. I don’t know what Will’s response was, but I hope she comes in an asks me, so I can explain how I already used all the money on blow. 

A woman called our restaurant today to ask if we would cook her pasta. As in, she will bring in her own whole wheat pasta (which we don’t have), give it to her server, they will give it to the cook, he will boil it for her, and mix with one of our sauces, and then serve it to her. WHAT!!??!?!?

When one orders a burger and asks that there be no lettuce or mustard on the burger, no big deal. However, when someone changes something altogether or just makes up their own dish, it can be a bigger pain in the ass than you think. You see, there is a menu for a reason. If the cook gets an order, like a Chinese Chicken Salad, they’ve been trained to look at the ticket, know the ingredients and make it quickly. It’s a skill set to look at an order and just make it without a second thought. So when I get an order that looks like this….

(it reads: Romaine Lettuce, Shredded Chicken, Bell Peppers, Cucumbers, Carrots, Sesame Seeds, Chopped, with Salsa on the side, oh yeah, and add Mushrooms)

the cook has to slow down production just to make sure they get everything correctly. Of course we HAVE the shit to make your salad special, but it slows down production and efficiency for the cooks. Obviously one specially made salad during a slow time in the restaurant won’t fuck up too much, but if several people do this during a rush every other order gets delayed and other customers can’t get their food quickly. That’s why some restaurants just go ahead and set a precedent that they won’t specially make your meal. And that’s what makes Jack Nicholson in “Five Easy Pieces” the dickhead. 

After a few minutes I return to the table, and now they actually are ready to order. After everything, the kid gets a hamburger. Great. Now on to drinks. When I come to the mother to get her drink order she says “Iced tea”. Now I have to ask, “Regular or Passion Fruit?” However, she didn’t hear me at all because as soon as she said “Iced tea”, she was talking to the infant, who I’m sure hated engaging in conversation with this woman as much as I did.

Fine, you’re getting regular, and I hope you hate it!

A few minutes later, I’ve got 3 plates in my hand as I’m running food to one of my other tables. As I pass by her table, I hear a loud “Sir!” I don’t want to look, but it would be hard to pretend I didn’t hear her. So I simply turn my head and she precedes to tell me “We’re gonna be having one more join us”  

This actually happens a lot more than it should in a restaurant, where I clearly have food in my hand and someone stops me to tell me something benine. Short of “My husband’s choking to death”, I promise you, your thing can wait until I’ve put this shit down. I actually can’t wait til my very last day of waiting and this specific incident occurs. I want to drop the plates on the floor next to the person who is calling me and politely ask them what I can get for them. ONE DAY……

There are several little things that some costumers do in the service industry that you can’t believe “just go with the territory”, and then there are those people that manage to hit most of them in one sitting. 

Part 1: the introduction

I come up to a table that consists of 4 people: Mom, Dad (both in 40’s I’d say) and their 2 children, (one is maybe 5yrs old and the other about 11 months). Somewhere between taking a small breath to say my usual greeting and actually saying my greeting, the mother has already said “We’re ready to order.”  

Then she asks: “Do you have hotdogs?” 

Rest assured, there is literaly NOTHING on our menu that suggests we would have hotdogs. Nevertheless, I simply answer “No, I’m sorry we don’t.” “They don’t have hotdogs, what else would you like?” she says to the 5 year old. Of course, as you may expect, the kid just sits there quietly and kind of pouts. 

I then say my usual spiel of what we can make for kids. (pasta with butter, grilled cheese, cheese pizza, etc.)

“Do you want any those honey?”

Kid pouts…..

“I think we’re gonna need some more time”.

What? You told me you were ready. You were so ready in fact, you couldn’t wait for me to at least say “Hi, how are you today?” and now you need more time??? And you didn’t have any kind of back up plan on the hotdog front? It never dawned on you to say to your child…”We’ll see if they have hotdogs, but if not, what else would you like?” Of course not.

 to be continued…..

As of late, I’ve noticed my inner snarky voice has been coming out more and more. Here’s an example: I went up to these 2 ladies at a table that had been sitting there for more than a minute but less than 2. I said my usual “Hi there ladies, can I get you something to drink while you’re looking through the menu?” The older one (mid-late 60’s I’d say) replies with “No one has come over to offer us anything yet?”  

?!?!?!?!?!?

“Yep”, I replied in a less than enthuastic voice. “That’s why I’m here? Can. I. get. you. something. to. drink?” Now there’s a brief moment that she looks extremely baffled, as though I just asked if I could if she take a look at some rash on my testicles. 

“You mean like a drink from the bar?” Keep in mind it’s about 1:30pm, I didn’t think she wanted alcohol at that time, but it’s not that crazy to have something, like a glass of wine, either. In the laziest “why don’t you go ahead and just blow me” voice, I say: “Or any kind of drink. Iced tea. Lemonade. Milk. Juice. Soda. If there is some sort of liquid you would like, I’ll go get it for you.” 

Now I’m frozen for a second. I can’t believe I just said that. In a completly rude tone too. These women are going to complain. And as much as I hate them right now, they kinda have a right to. 

“Oh…no, I’m fine right now. Maybe some water?” she said. “Alright, then. Water is something we’ve got.” I said in the same shitty tone. 

The weird thing is, she was so pleasant the rest of her meal. Every time I went back to check in, “Oh everything is just wonderful!” she would say. I don’t know if she became afraid of me being a dick to her again, or if she realized that our little exchange was the result of her being a dumb cunt at first and didn’t want to repeat it. But sure enough, the rest of the meal was quite nice. I hope she comes back. 

Saturday night, my first table of the night, ready to start making some money. It’s a simple 2 top, father and daughter (she’s somewhere in her mid teens). “Hi there, how you doing?” No response, cool. Let’s just keep this thing moving. “Can you I get you both something to drink while you’re looking through the menu?” Dad, who has the menu down, and never looks up at me, replies after about 5- 10 seconds of silence. “I’ll have Diet Coke”. I hate people who don’t look at me when they order. I understand if you’re really invested in the menu and trying to figure it out, but if you’re not, look me in the eye when you’re talking to me. Turning to the girl, “and for you?” “………………………….I’ll have water with lemon.” As I’m about to walk away from this, one of my favorite/ actually hate moments happens. Dad says “We’re ready to order too, I’ll have the Chinese Chicken Salad.” “Ok, and for you?” “uhh……………..I’m not ready yet.” Way to go dad, way to fuck this up. How about if you’re not sure about something, you ask first. You know I’m coming back with drinks. Why not just wait til I’m gone and then say “I’d like to order when the waiter comes back, so make up your fucking mind quickly!” I assume this is how their relationship works.

I come back and say as gently as I can “Do we think we know what we’d like?” because right now I’m kinda on the daughter’s side, feeling bad that she has to deal with this shit head father.  Louis C.K. does a bit about over hearing some guys talking about something and how words just fall out of their mouths because they are not using their jaws to enunciate.  That is now how this girl is speaking. “Whaas…. in…. tha…. Chiken…. Tacos?” “Um, in the actual tacos there’s just chicken, cheese and lettuce, and on the side is sour cream, guacamole and tomatillo salsa.” “….Can..I…have……thaaa…..sour cream….on tha…sssiiddee?” 

I JUST SAID IT COMES ON THE SIDE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

“You mean sour cream only?”

“On….tha…..sssiiiiddee.”

Fuck it. At this point I now hate both of them and I want this conversation to end. “Sure, sour cream on the side”. I’ll just set it up as it usually does, because as I said, SOUR CREAM COMES ON THE FUCKING SIDE.

I leave, put the order in and about 5 minutes later (2 minutes til their food is about ready) another server comes up to me and says: “The girl on 25 wanted to change her order to a half ceaser salad.” All that shit, and she changes her order. Of course she did.

In life, if I can’t understand someone, I might ask them once to repeat whatever it is they just said, but if I still can’t understand them and I assume it’s not all that important, I’ll laugh like I got it, or nod, or say “sure”, whatever I can do to move on.  However, when waiting tables, I can’t really do that. So if someone is ordering and then mumbles something, I really need to make sure I catch what they said. 

Cut to yesterday, I’m starting to take the order of this table of 2 elderly (let’s say late 60’s) couples. I get the two wives’ orders then I move on to one of the husbands. “I’ll have a Chinese Chickionnl Salaho fdn and llkajoana…..” Ok, I can make out the Chinese Chicken Salad, but I have no idea what that second part was. So I ask “I’m sorry, Chinese Chicken Salad…..and…?” He repeats begrudgingly ”Chinese Chicken Salad an a fla disc”.  Alright, now I’m trying to figure out if I can interepret this without asking him again. Nope. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t catch that second part.” Now his voice gets louder (as he is clearly annoyed by me) but he still barely moves his lips to say “On a Flat Dish!” 

Now I know I’ve heard him right, I just need a second to process this request that I have never heard of.  OH, YOU MEAN A PLATE??!!!! You see, we serve our salads in a bowl and he would like it on a plate. But who the fuck refers to a PLATE as a FLAT DISH? 

This guy at a BBQ: “Pass me the paper flat dishes”