Archive for the 'war stories' Category

Things I fucking hate (about being a server)


I love my job. This week. I have known my boss for years. She is younger than me, she is hotter than me, and she is (except for one week out of the month) generally pleasant to work for. Being young and driven causes her to ride my ass about appearing on our work website on Facebook promoting our restaurant. Every week she posts a picture and an employee “profile”, listing our favorite house beer, the entrĂ©e we enjoy most, and an interesting personal fact. Fabulous idea. Unless you are pushing 40 and are totally insecure about announcing to the entire internet that you are pushing 40 and still work in the perceived peon stage of the restaurant industry.
Don’t get me wrong. I am proud of what I do, make a lot of money, and so enjoy the flexibility my job allows with three kids and the husband. I do, however, sometimes feel like people expect an explanation. Which they should not. More often, I feel like people owe ME an explanation why they are such assholes. Hence, my list of things I fucking hate about being a server.

1. Bitter bitches. You know the type. Office ass. Office affairs. A general distaste for anyone or anything younger, skinnier, or happier than they think they are. Primary attributes? Condescending banter, unnecessary requests, and a predetermined worthless gratuity.

2. Customers who say, “I’ll just have a water for now”. Ummm… yeah. You are having water. You are not going to pony up the $2.75 for a soft drink or a tea. You are having water. Water drinkers almost require a page to themselves. Hot water with lemon? What the fuck?? Who drinks hot water? It is as much of a pain in the ass as preparing hot tea. Without the $2.75. Water with lemon? I can handle that. Water with a plate of extra lemons? Come on! Get a fucking lemonade. Cheap cheap cheap! And the variations of water? Water with lemon, water with no ice, water with no ice and lemon, water with lime, water with a twist, a soda water with lemon and lime…. really? Fuck off.

3. The splitting of the checks. Generally, I do not mind requests for separate checks. Unless you fuck with me. Today, I had a table of ten that requested separate checks and I happily obliged. Then, seat #1 wanted to pay for seat #5 and #8. Seat #2 wanted to split appetizer with seat #6. Seat #7 had office ass and the rest paid with cash and were suddenly in a hurry.

4. Fighting over the check and trying to make ME decide who is going to win.

5. Whenever I say I’ll be right back with another Pepsi, water, Iced tea, etc. And then someone asks me for a Pepsi, water, Iced tea, or etc.

6. The verbal tip. Need I say more? Because I will…

7. Being an “older’ server. I know those young boys lament because they got the old server. I remember being 21, damn it!! I had a table that loved me last week. The lady says to me, “You’re a great server! Probably because you are a little older”.
Not a compliment, honey.

8. Regular customers who strive to order off the menu. I have one customer I hate spieling our daily special to. Without fail, he will ask me if he can get it in a wrap. I’d like to lie and say I do not know why this annoys me. He annoys me. That is the problem. He is a good tipper, though, so I spiel away and he gets the special in the wrap. And fresh squeezed orange juice. What the fuck?

9. One redhead I work with. She may elicit a page for herself soon.

10. Grown men that pay the bill with a Disney credit card. Pussy.

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The thick black American Express

I have worked at an upscale casual restaurant for the last four years. I have been a server for almost 17 years. Yes; I have war stories. I like my job. I can put up with almost anybody for an hour. The fact that I cannot hear in my left ear definitely helps! Sometimes, all people want is for you to smile and nod anyway.
I like my job on several different levels. First of all, it is not hard work to me. Simplified, I take your order, bring you your food, fill your drinks, and clear your plates. Most people hate receiving bad service. I love it. I am also Jewish. Jew trumps waitress; I will still leave 20% if I receive mediocre(or bad) service but I will graciously over tip if service is sensational. I believe the definition of good service can also be debatable. My definition of sensational service? I never run out of beer and I do not hear my server’s life story. I strive to do the same; be efficient and shut the fuck up.
I also like the people I work for, most of the people I work with, and I have a several regular customers I truly enjoy. Especially the ones with the thick black American Express cards.
The thick black American Express bears no credit limit. Whenever I open a guest check and catch a glimpse of that heavy piece of plastic, I instantly recount every minute of my previous tableside manner and pray I was as nice as I think I was. And you know the saying ‘once you go black…’ Yeah, I never forget the face of a thick black American Express holder.
So one day two gentleman I immediately recognized as said cardholders sat in my section for the second or third time. They were pleasantly surprised when I remembered what they both wanted to eat and drink. Their order was prompt, their drinks kept full, and I said little. The older of the gentlemen usually pays; he is distinguished looking but does not bear much resemblance to Kevin Spacey nor is he bald which I prefer. The younger one will probably look just like him in 20 years. I cruise by the table to refill their ice in their Iced Tea and the older one smiles and says to me, “You’re so good to us! I could just take you home”.
My response? I laugh lightly and say, “I’d probably come”.
And then I stood there.
Are you fucking kidding me? THOSE are the words I chose?
To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. My face immediately flushed as I struggled to recover from such an obvious blunder. And I realized I could not.


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