It Was the Best of Times…

And today? It was the worst of times.

My husband and I have been talking about when my last day would be for quite some time. He has finished school( WTG, Bebe!!) and all he has to do is take National Registry. Well, and pass it, but I’m not worried about that part. He’s got this. In the mean time he has been working in the kitchen of a sorta local pub. They have been incredibly supportive of school and his schedule. Now that he has finished they mentioned they would like him to work Sundays as well. So I gave my notice last week. It wasn’t an easy decision, and it was. If that makes any kind of sense. I’ve enjoyed working there over the past(almost) two years. I’ve had great bosses and pretty excellent co-workers. With the exception of a few Jackwagons. But that is to be expected. There’s always gonna be somebody screwing things up for the rest of us. You deal with it and move on. So I was really looking forward to today. The sun was shining and it was turning out to be a beautiful day. And then I got to work. The dining room looked like absolute hell. Condiments were empty, the tablecloths were all wonky, silverware was strewn about the tables. I don’t get that. But that’s a whole ‘nother story…So let’s move on to my firstest table ‘o’ the day, shall we?

My first table consisted of two women, the words charm free come to mind, but whatevs. I took their drink order diet coke and half and half tea. Which the lady smarmily explained to me was half sweet tea and half unsweet tea. Wow. Really? And to think I’ve been getting that wrong for OVER. TWENTY. YEARS. Idiots. I took their lunch order, salads(SHOCKER!) and noted their special requests(AGAIN, SHOCKER!). When I went to bring out their food I didn’t notice that another server accidentally took my salad instead of hers. So naturally she took great delight in pointing out that I had got her order wrong. Um, no. I didn’t. I brought her out a new salad and all was right in their tiny little world. I dropped off the checks and waited for them to pay. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally I saw them reach for their wallets. VICTORY! Except no, not so much. They proceeded to sit there for another 45 excruciating minutes. In spite of my obvious attempts to get them to get up and go. By the way? If your server comes over and asks you if you need anything else, or if you are still doing okay AFTER you have paid the bill…it’s our polite way of saying GO HOME, or GO SOME PLACE THAT ISN’T HERE.

In the meantimes, I finally get sat my second table of the day. And definitely my super fave table, maybe ever. Are you sensing the sarcasm? I don’t even get hello out of my mouth before Jackass(you may think this is harsh, just wait…) whips out a special prize he won in a Golf Tournament yesterday that allows him to get dinner for two, up to $30. I tell him no problem and ask what I can bring them to drink. Naturally, he wants a beer. Which we aren’t allowed to serve yet because of our Liquor Law. Needless to say, this does not go over well. One word, pal. VOTE. I finally get the order, which was no small feat in itself. I’m refilling drinks, bringing out extra napkins, etc. The wife can barely be bothered to speak to me beyond, “yeah”. Her response to every question. Not yes, or no. No please and thank you. I don’t care how old I am, if I EVER behaved liked that to another person my mama would smack me. I bring out a to-go box and the bill and tell them I will be right back. I finish whatever it was I was doing and walk back to the table to see if they are ready. Jackass is miffed because he never gor his side of fries. I apologize and ask him if he would like them to-go. He says no. He wants them taken off the bill. I pick the bill up and take it to our GM. He explains it IS off the bill because of his special prize. I go back to the table and show him the bill and explain that it is essentially taken off the bill. He seems fine and I walk off. I come back and it’s still sitting there and he is bitching to his wife. I ask if there is a problem and he says yes, he wants it taken off the bill. I calmly explain(AGAIN) that it IS off. I show him where the money has been taken off and what his remaining bill is. As I walk off I hear him say something, but I can’t quite catch what it is. So I turn back around and ask if there is a problem. He proceeds to rip into me and tell me that I am “ignorant” and obviously don’t know my job, or the menu. I ask him how I am the one who is ignorant in this situation. He tells me that nothing was taken off the bill and to show him where. At this point I am freaking LIVID. I show him and explain it yet again. He calls me ignorant for a second time. At that point I tell him I will be happy to send the GM out to speak with him. And I storm into the kitchen. Long story short? The GM took another $6 off his bill bringing it down to $5 and some change. Wanna guess what he left me? Besides his to-go box which I promptly threw in the trash? NOTHING. Except for a good ol’ case of MAD.

The whole freakin’ day was like that. People were pissed about charges on the menu. Substitutions I couldn’t make. The fact that APPETIZERS were not dinners, complete with two sides. I spent the whole day running around like a chicken with my head cut off. With a three table section, y’all. Really? Tips sucked major donkeys and my tables were just awful. All in all, not quite the day I envisioned my last day to be.

To be fair, I did have three very sweet tables. Easygoing, polite(I KNOW, RIGHT!) and one of them was a boy I went to school with and haven’t seen in years. His family was charming. I didn’t really get the chance to tell him so with all the DRAMA in my station. Sheesh. Save that for your own life people! I’m slap full up here…

So I guess that’s it. The end of my reign, as it were. Just a couple more things and then I am officially all official like done with waiting tables. I’m grateful to been given this job at a time I needed it so very desperately. I’m grateful for the friends I made whilst working there. I think that I am most especially grateful for the man who hired me, and he knows who he is. It was a pleasure to work for you, sir. And so damn much fun. My bosses were fabulous and I adored them. Yes, ALL of them. Those of you who read this know the one I am referring to! And finally, my sorta new GM. I have enjoyed working for you, and I appreciate the kind words today. I know you meant them, and that meant a lot too. I’ve enjoyed your youth and energy. I think you are just what that place needed. I wish you all the success in the world. I love you guys. Thanks for making my life better. And for all your love and support these last few years.

I’m gonna miss you most of all…


The Brand Spanking New Ultimate Indicator That You Will Not Be Getting a Good Tip…

Or any tip, for that matter. And this one’s a LULU, y’all. And something that I have NEVER seen anyone do in all my years of waiting tables. Or even in general. My husband was shocked when I told him about it last night. And asked me if I was making it up! I told him my imagination just wasn’t that good…And it isn’t. But you be the judge.

Traditionally, Sundays are a crappy day to wait tables. Half the staff is generally hungover as hell from the night before. Then the rest of the staff is annoyed at having to pull their extra weight along with their regular duties. GO TEAMWORK! Don’t even get me started on the customers.

I have never understood what it is about Sundays that makes people so nasty. You’ve been to church, for cryin’ out loud. Did the sermon hit a little too close to home? I mean there you are, all dressed up in your Sunday finery, with an ugly look on your face and superior tone in your voice. Let me clue ya, sparky…just because I work on Sundays doesn’t mean I am going to burn in hell. I believe in God and have been saved. But better yet? I’m generally a nice person. I very rarely kick dogs or small chirrens. And? I’m ALWAYS nice to waiters. So I’m pretty sure I’m gettin’ in the Pearly Gates, no prob. You? Yeah, good luck with that one. Judgy Wudgy.

So yesterday was more of the same. People had coupons and were just cheap and generally charm free. I even waited on an old customer of mine from back in the day. He was always good for $5-6. Now? $4. After a coupon AND to-go cups AND he asked me to get him another bucket of peanuts(I remember thinking, wow they ate a lot of peanuts!) which he proceeded to dump(along with the FIRST bucket!) into his to-go bag. Really, y’all? And you wonder why we have to charge you for peanuts now? It’s a stumper fo sho…

And finally, the best part of my day. I walk up to a table and greet them. And am met by total silence. For like two minutes. Finally, the one lady(and I am SO using this term loosely) looks me up and down and says “Fine”. Um, okaaaay then. I get their drinks(clue #1-she orders two drinks!) and prepare to take their order. She adds a salad to her order, which I make as requested. I bring out the salad and bread and drop them off. I walk over to my other table to check on them. As I’m walking back I notice her salad is at the edge of the table. I ask her if everything is okay. She gives me a nasty look and says “They tomatoes on dis salad”. I apologize and head back to the kitchen to get her another one, sans tomatoes. Whilst in the kitchen I pull out my book to check her order. Yeah, there was NO mention of tomatoes. Sigh(clue#2-being a pain in the ass on purpose!). I make the new salad and bring it out. She sucks down the last of her Pibb and asks for a refill(water! untouched! as it would remain throughout the ENTIRE meal!). I get that and go check on her food. Now, let me also mention that throughout the entire lunch her companion has been on an iPad and iPhone, at the same times. She would grunt answers to questions I asked her. Yeah, good times. Another server brings out the food and I go by to check and make sure everything is correct and exactly what they ordered. They are now both on the phone. Whatevs. I keep an eye on them whilst I doing other things. I see that they are slowing down and that there is an awful lot of food left on their plates. I stop by to offer to-go boxes. And then I see it. The one thing I have positively never, ever seen before. Ever. In all my years of waiting tables.

SHE WAS PICKING FOOD OUT OF HER GRILL USING A PORK CHOP BONE(clues#3-14!). While talking on the phone. At that point I knew I wasn’t getting jack. They didn’t want to-go boxes, just “They check”. Which I had in my pocket and whipped out and set on the table.

The moral of the story? If you see someone picking their teeth with a pork chop bone be prepared to get a big, fat nothing for your tip. Well, aside from a bitchin’ story to tell all your friends.

The One With The What The Hell?

I have been a part of the restaurant business my entire life, more or less. So I get this. All of this. From the kitchen to the front of the house. I have been a host, server, bartender, prep person, biscuit maker, fry line—need I go on? I have also been a Key Employee and a Manager. I think it would be safe to assume I have some sort of basic knowledge of the restaurant bidness…

Having said all that, you would think I would be prepared for the craziness that happened tonight.

And you would be wrong.

It began with the hopes and dreams we all have of a busy weekend night–a good section and lots of tables. And it pretty much ended there for me when I found out I was in the Garage. By myself. If there isn’t a worse place to be I don’t know about it. I swear to you I am CURSED in that dang Garage. BUT! I kept my hopes up! And had a positive attitude!

And a twenty top waiting for me. With cake! That I could only dream of getting a piece of…

The party turned out to be quite nice, if a little needy. And by needy I mean that EVERY dang time I walked in the door I was met with “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we could use…”. But still, fairly easy and problem free. And there were only three checks. And cake! Have I mentioned the cake? ‘Cause you KNOW I love me some cake!  Moving on…the checks were easy. The first two were credit cards, and I honestly felt would be pretty decent tips. The third one was cash. And I was not so much feelin’ that one. Turns out I was right. The bill was $88.50. He handed me $100.00 and told me it was mine. WOW! REALLY? ALL MINE? FOR REALZ?

And I moved on with the rest of my night. Which turned out to be very short. As in only one more party. Seven adults and two babies. And only 4 adults actually ate. Seriously. One woman was obviously pissed about something and refused to order. The next couple? Yeah, the man was bigger AND taller than my husband and only ordered a CUP OF SOUP. I CAN’T MAKE THIS UP.


I would LOVE to say that my night ended with that…but it didn’t. It so didn’t.

The woman who paid cash from the first party came back…ALMOST THREE HOURS AFTER SHE LEFT. To, GET THIS, ASK IF SHE COULD USE HER COUPONS!!!!!! Because, and this is verbatim She left them in her wallet, and then forgot about them in the confusion(which I could TOTALLY see, you know seeing as how there were those THREE checks and all), AND THEY SAT THERE FOR AT LEAST 45 MINUTES AFTER HAVING PAID THEIR CHECK! And then she “remembered” when she went to reach for her cell phone. So which is it? You “remembered” when you reached for your cell phone THREE HOURS LATER, or you “forgot” when you were reaching for your wallet, THREE HOURS LATER?

But thank you, so much! For being CHEAP AS HELL the first time, and then for coming BACK to confirm it! I really loved it when you actually got mad at me because I couldn’t do anything to fix it. Seeing as how I had run my cash out, tipped out and clocked out. You know, because I was actually done. THREE HOURS AFTER YOU LEFT. I did love how you threw it in my face that “We were the ones who left you cake”…Um, no. That would be the gentleman who brought the yummy cake, and actually had the decency to leave me TWENTY PERCENT. YOU DID NOT LEAVE ME CRAP.

Except that pitiful excuse for a tip…

What Do You Know About Tweedlebeetles?

If you are anything like the tipping public from last Sunday’s BOGO, that would be JACK.

It was by far the worst BOGO in BOGO History…

It began innocently enough, kinda busy and my tables seemed nice. I was thinking to myself that it was gonna turn out to be a pretty good day after all. And then, inexplicably, we ran out of potatoes. At like, 11:45. Um, really? At a STEAKHOUSE? And it just proceeded to go downhill from there.

My table at the time assured me that they knew it wasn’t my fault, but they were pissy just the same. And the lovely lady who joined them also felt that it was taking far. too. long. Because they had been there for fifty! minutes. Until I explained to her that yes, they may have been there for fifty!minutes, but due to her STANDING IN FRONT OF THE TABLE AND CHATTING WITH THEM BEFORE DECIDING TO JOIN THEM FOR LUNCH( FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES PRIOR TO EVEN ORDERING), they weren’t waiting fifty! minutes for their food. And then, and you should know that this was coming, the food was crappy. The ribs were burnt. The steak was dry and tough(I can’t imagine WHY since she ordered it well done.It’s a stumper, all right.) Supposedly, they were aware that this wasn’t my fault as well. Too bad their tip was not a reflection of their supposed Jenny Love.

And on and on it went. All frickin’ day. People not doing their side work. Food taking eleventy bajillion years to come out of the kitchen. And then when it did manage to come out? It was either undercooked or overcooked. Which is also always my fault. Because in addition to taking care of your sorry table, running food, doing my running side work, and the running side work of the idiots I work with, I am also on the grill. JACKWAGONS. Get a clue, wouldja?

My favorite table of the day would have to be the party of seven I happily picked up in mine and another server’s section. I should have been suspicious of how easily he gave them up because we servers are generally a greedy lot. However, they seemed nice, if a bit needy. And the warning bells shoulda been going off like a tornado siren at that point. But no. Stupid intuition. So off I blindly go, refilling Mr. Pibb for Mr. Charm Free like nobody’s bidness. And I should also mention that I kept having to refill the Coke of their seven-year old. They said to me” Haha, he drinks a lot of Coke”. Really? He’s seven. Make him drink water. Sheesh. So the food comes out, and it’s wrong. Nothing too terrible and they decide to eat it, because Hello! Eleventy bajillion years. I go about my business, refilling drinks, clearing plates, being my usual sunny self. Although at this point it’s feeling a bit forced because I can only take. so. much. And then the dam breaks. I bring out the checks and she gets mad. Because she “told me” that she wanted her and her daughter to both use the BOGO’s on her check. And then the other check should have the rest of the bill. I calmly explained to her that she couldn’t have TWO BOGO’s on her check because you have to BUY one to get ONE free. Hence BOGO. And then she got nasty and told me to get a manager. Which means no tip. And I was right. But that’s okay. She will end up in Bad Tipper’s Hell and then SHE can work endless BOGO’s where they run out of things like potatoes and steak, and she can deal with all the Jackwagons who don’t tip. Have fun, Honey!

It was like that for the rest of the day. People getting angry because they had to wait *gasp* to be seated and then wait some more for their food to come out cooked wrong. Shiny, happy people they were not. I did have a swell family of four who came in and ordered water for themselves, and Diet Coke for their children(only ’cause the kid’s meal comes with a free drink!) and then when I had to change the Diet Coke and I let them know it would be a minute, they gave the children their water. And then when I came back with their Diet Cokes, they asked for new waters. Because their children had drunk out of them. I’m sure I had a really stupid look on my face when they asked me, but really? A new glass? Boy, I bet it’s fun living at your house!

And let’s not forget the man who told our manager that I “obviously didn’t know the menu”. That would be AFTER I gave him an in-depth explanation about crispy onions versus onion petals, and which I thought he might prefer. But yeah, you sure are right. I don’t have ANY idea what’s on our menu. Thanks for the .36 tip though. That really pushed my total for the morning over the edge. Preesh!

That brings me to my final story. And mercifully, it’s one of redemption. One of my final tables of the night was a young family waiting on some people to join them. They seemed pretty nice and I was beyond grateful at that point. They decided to order an appetizer, and I recommended our new one. With my limited menu knowledge and all…I keep checking on them whilst they are waiting and we are laughing and chatting. Then I get busy and I see that the other members of their party have arrived. I stop by and tell them I will be right back. But it’s taking me longer than I want it to, so I send another server up there to get their drink order. I finally finish up with whatever it was I was doing and walk up to the table to ask how they liked their appetizer. Which STILL has yet to arrive. IT’S BEEN THIRTY MINUTES. And it’s GRILLED FREAKIN’ SHRIMP. I apologize and haul butt back to the kitchen to find out what happened. I tell a manager, and suggest that perhaps he may want to buy it because it’s been thirty minutes. He ask me if I told them that we would buy it, to which I say no because I don’t ever tell a table that a manager is going to buy something. He gets the appetizer ready and heads to the table. To speed things up I will tell you that they loved it, and he bought it. Now comes the good part. The food comes out and it’s all perfect. I swear to you that I heard a chorus of angels singing at that point because it was the first good thing that happened all damn day. I get the checks ready and walk up to the table. The woman is ready to pay because her young son is fussy and they need to go. Luckily, I have the checks! She is thrilled and I then tell her that the appetizer is on us, and she is shocked and thrilled some more! She asks how much it was and I tell her. She’s adding up money in her head, throws a big ol’ pile of it in the ticket book and thanks me as she leaves. I bring to go boxes and dessert for the rest of the table, and their bill. They pay and thank me as well. I open up both ticket books and the lady with the free appetizer has left me $18.00 on a $30.00 bill. The other gentleman left me $7.00 on $25.00. I coulda kissed her right on the mouth. That one family made my whole entire day. I can only hope that I made theirs.

And that’s what it is supposed to be all about. I am responsible for making sure you have a great experience every time you sit down in my section. I am responsible for taking your order quickly, getting your drinks, salad and bread out in a timely fashion, keeping your glass full and your table clean. I should be friendly and knowledgeable. The rest? I have absolutely no control over. None. At all. Whatsoever. So please quit basing your tip on having to wait to be seated, the food being prepared improperly, or just plain wrong, the restaurant being out of a particular item, etc. Tip me because I did a damn good job and you could clearly see I was busier than a one-armed paper hanger.

Do’s and Don’ts of Dining Out…

Eating out should be an enjoyable experience for all involved. However, for whatever reason we all know  that isn’t exactly the case. So here are a few tips from me to you, dear reader…

*DO allow yourself plenty of time to eat. You would think this was a no-brainer, but you wouldn’t believe the people who come into the restaurant who are in a hurry. Two words, FAST FOOD. Here’s two more, DRIVE THRU. Sheesh.

*DON’T get mad at me because you put off feeding little Turnip Green for so long that now she is a crying, hot ass mess. FEED YOUR CHILD WHEN THEY ARE HUNGRY! Again, another no-brainer. Or so you’d think. But people love to come in and immediately ask you for bread because TG is hungry and hasn’t eaten for eleventy bajillion years.

*DO expect to be ID’d if you are ordering alkyhall. It’s my job. And you should have your ID on you anyway, you Jackwagon. I’m not losing my job because you are a jerk with no ID.

*DON’T give me grief about being out of a particular item. I have NO control over the fact that we’ve run out of pork chops. And the next one of you that says” Man, that’s what I was gonna get” or some similar phrase is prolly gonna get punched in the eye. And while we are at it…No, you will not be getting anything for free because we are out of something. But thanks for letting me know I won’t be getting a good tip ahead of time.

*DO know that we talk about you in the kitchen. All the times. So when you are being difficult, obnoxious or just a general cheap bastard we are talking smack about you. And you. And DEFINITELY you over there.

*DON’T base my tip on doubling the tax. That is so 1965. Take the total amount and double the first number. For example— $43.25.  A good tip would be $8.00. Even $6.00 is acceptable! Anything less is crap and will prolly result in you making it on my album on FB. I’m just sayin’…

*DO be prepared to wait if it is a holiday, weekend, bogo, etc. If you MUST go out to eat, then come early and avoid the crowds.

*DON’T be cheap and let your kid eat off your plate and then complain when I charge you for his drink! IT’S ONLY FREE IF HE EATS A KIDS MEAL! Does little Scooby really eat ONLY peanuts at home? And bread? Get a life. I’m not an idiot. Also, thank you in advance for letting me know that my tip is gonna suck. Preesh.

* DO dress appropriately. I realize we are a steakhouse and not the Ritz, but you could still wear a bra. It would be greatly appreciated.

*DON’T bring your effing stroller into the restaurant. REALLY? WE HAVE HIGH CHAIRS. I’m sure Flower is not that heavy to begin with…prolly due to only eating peanuts and bread.

*DO come back to see me if you like the job I have done. I like that. I have made some excellent friends because of waiting tables.

*DON’T come back if you are a Jackwagon. And? I hope you get eaten by a shark. A big one. With lots of shiny, sharp teeth.

And We’ll Have a Gay Old Time…

BOGO. Normally the word sends me into peals of rapturous bliss. Normally. Not, however, when it applies to Buy One Entree, Gets Another One Free. Then? It blows. Seriously. And I like a good deal as much as the next gal. Don’t get me started on the deal Kroger had two weeks ago involving BOGO with Nathan’s Hot Dogs. Score! Talk about bliss! Sorry, Greg…I know, straight to my ass. But it is SO worth it!

Anyhoo, back to my particular BOGO-mare. I worked back-to-back doubles the entire weekend. And I made far less than I should have. Why, you ask? Weren’t you busy? Yes, to both. Unfortunately people do not know how to tip when they receive something for FREE. FREE, PEOPLE. Sheesh. Would it kill you to leave some of the money you saved? I mean really? Because whilst you are enjoying sitting around and chatting in my section while we are on an HOUR wait, I’m still making $2.13 an hour. Oh, and that lovely $3.00 tip you left me on your discounted meal. So please, by all means stay and live it up. Do you need me to bring you a pillow, or your slippers? No? THEN GET OUT. Lovies!

And that brings me to my next point. You have obviously waited to be seated for who know’s how long, please don’t ask me for special requests and then get pissed off because I can’t accommodate you. No, you can’t have only iceberg lettuce in your salad because we have already mixed it with romaine and shredded carrots. And you are CRAZY if you think I am going to go back there and pick them out of your salad for you. Eat it or do not. It makes no difference to me. Also, do not ask me questions like “Ae you having to kill the cow?” or my personal favorite “What’s the hold up?”. The “hold up” is that you are all a bunch of cheap idiots and you have crashed our kitchen. It will be out as soon as it’s ready. Trust me, I don’t want you sitting there with no food either. If I could cook it FOR you I would.

I also truly enjoy the people who like to run you to death with ridiculous requests for things they DON’T EVEN USE. REALLY? Don’t I look busy enough? Because I don’t think you really need four ramekins of extra butter each time I bring you out an order of rolls. You could save me some time if you’d just spread it all over your ass and be done with it. I also enjoy it when you ask me “Is that sweet/unsweet tea?” when I am bringing you your refill. Um, yeah. It has been the other twenty times I’ve refilled it too! Me smart. Me know what you drinking!

But the absolute BEST part of my weekend was the super fun family of four I had late Monday night. The guy thought he was a comedian and quite the ladies man to boot. Dude, I hate to disillusion you, but no. On both counts. Maybe it was your bitchin’ Bluetooth.Or possibly it could be the fact that you are just a complete JACKWAGON in general. I dunno. But thanks for running me to death, and being an ass. I enjoyed it ever so much. Although prolly not as much as when you were finished with your dinner and I thought I was about to be rid of you, ONLY TO HAVE YOUR WIFE TRY TO SELL ME SOME AVON! Seriously. And then she tried to recruit me! I CAN’T MAKE THIS STUFF UP! So, not only No, but also HELL NO. Not if you were the LAST AVON REP ON EARTH and I needed eye makeup remover or I would die. I CHOOSE DEATH. So then, he actually complains about his discount and asks to see a manager! WHO DOES THAT? We get it all straightened out, which just means that she let him use TWO coupons and separated it for him, and I bring him his checks and run his credit cards. I drop them off and wait to see what Mr. Big Shot is gonna leave me for a tip. Which turns out to be NOTHING. Unless you count material for my blog!  And it turns out I know them. But they don’t know that! Yet…

So to sum up:   BOGO-1   Me-0

Curses to you, BOGO. I will prevail next time…should there be one.


The One With The Jackwagons…

Here’s what I can’t figure out…

Why on earth would you want to go out to eat at a restaurant, any restaurant, and act like a Jackwagon? I’m fairly certain that you don’t behave like that at home, or work for that matter. So why do it when you are dining out? Anyone? Do I hear crickets?

Last night at work I hit the trifecta of Jackwagon-y tables. Let’s discuss it, shall we? And these are in no particular order…

Table #1- A group of six people came in at sat down in my section. I guess they felt the table wasn’t big enough so they moved it away from the wall. Which I find odd because it’s a table for SIX PEOPLE. Apparently it also needs to be a sign of impending doom. I get the order, ring it in, get salads and bread out, and refill drinks. All is going well until I bring out the food. And then, BAM. Jackwagon City. The lady who ordered an 8oz. Filet flips out because she thinks her steak has been butterflied*. It has not and I try to explain it to her, but she ain’t hearin’ a word I say because she’s too busy flopping her meat around with her fork, mumbly grumbling about it. I go to check on my other tables and let a manger know what the problem is. I go back to the table to make sure everyone’s food has been prepared properly and to their liking. AND SHE STILL HAS A PUSS ON. I offer to have them make her another one. No dice. The manager comes out to the table and checks on them. Lo and behold, EVERYTHING IS PERFECTLY FINE. Really? Perfectly fine, eh? So you will moan and groan to me, and everyone else at the table, but when the one person who can fix it for you pays a visit to your table to check on you magically everything is perfect and rosy? Whatevs. I call JACKWAGON on that one. But what REALLY sealed the deal for me? WHEN YOU LEFT ME THREE FREAKIN’ DOLLARS ON A FORTY DOLLAR CHECK. Thank you for playing.

Table#2- These lovely people arrived in the midst of the Did We Butterfly It or Not Affair and they were charm free from the get go. Great. Just what I needed. I walk up to the table, which is another six top, and they have sat so that there are two of them on either side and one person on the end, with the table pulled away from the wall. Insert ominous music here, please. Anyhoo, I walk up to the table with a big smile on my face and give ’em my best spiel…only to be met with complete silence and blank faces. Not a “we’re fine, how are you?” to be had. Nothing. Sigh…it’s gonna be a long night. Then the questions begin. And whoever said that there are no dumb questions has obviously NEVER waited tables because I can PROMISE YOU there are plenty of dumb questions in the restaurant business. Plenty. So back to this super fun table, I’m patiently answering a multitude of stupid questions and explaining the menu and extra charges, I FINALLY get the order and ring it in. And nothing. I go back for refills and try to engage them in conversation. Silence. They are barely even talking to each other. I bring out the food, refills, etc. Still nothing. At this point I’m just ready for them to leave because they are depressing as hell. Like Emotional Vampires, sucking all the life outta you and leaving only an empty shell. Seriously. So I get to go boxes and bring the checks(two separate checks with COUPONS! Can you see where this is headed?!) and the one guy asks me how they are supposed to fit the nachos in a small box. Since they only asked me for two small boxes I foolishly assumed they weren’t taking them home. I don’t know what I was thinking. I head back to the kitchen and grab a bigger box. Their tip? ZERO. ZILCH. NADA. THE BIG GOOSE EGG. JACKWAGONS.

Table #3-  At first glance they appeared to be a normal family of three. Table firmly against the wall(HOORAY!). It was only after I greeted them that I began to suspect otherwise. The wife wanted to know the drink specials and I explained that Happy Hour was over, so after asking me how much the house margaritas were she decided on one of those. The husband decided on a LIT, after asking me if he needed to tip the bartender first. Wha? Um, no. Then they tried to order from the Two for $14.99 menu which CLEARLY states on it that it’s ONLY on Mondays and Tuesdays. That threw them for a loop so I said I would just run up to the bar and grab their drinks. Y’all, they were shot out. I’m serious. So I come back to the table with beverages in hand, ready to take the order. The guy asks me how many shrimp come in the add-on skewer, which he referred to as “scrimps skrewer” SERIOUSLY. I told him and that’s what he decided he was going to eat. Just that. The wife ordered Roadies. I ring in their order, get bread and come back to the table. All is well. Until I ask if they are ready for another round. And the guys screams “NO”. Ooookay then. Our food runner brings out the food and they start telling her they need to go boxes and the check, like she is me. Sigh…I bring the check and tell him I will be right back. He hands me forty dollars and tells me to keep it. Which sorta rocked because it was the best tip I got all night! But still, definitely Jackwagons.

* Butterflied. First, we would NEVER butterfly a steak when you ordered it medium unless you ask us to. It’s stupid and pointless. Kind of like your behaviour at dinner. Second, this didn’t happen at my table but I witnessed it and thought it would be a good tidbit for somewhere. When you are finished eating at home do you take your plate and put it on the nearest ledge? I mean really. What. The. Hell. Did your mother not teach you any manners? My seven, five, and fourteen month old have better manners than that. Sheesh.

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