So It IS The Parent’s Fault.

November 28, 2006

Last night at work, there was this little douchebag kid who looked like he’d been homeschooled by an equally douche-y mom. (Not to say homeschooled kids are bad as I have a really good friend who was homeschooled from kindergarten to 5th or 6th grade and he’s cool as hell).

Anyway, this kid had little to no social skills and went absolutely crazy when he downed his first soda. Does anyone remember in “The Simpsons” when Bart gives Flanders’ kids some pixie sticks and they taste sugar for the first time? That’s what this kid was like. Except it wasn’t a cartoon and I couldn’t punch this mom in the face like Homer does to Flanders. Fucking cartoons.

A little explanation: At our restaurant, the chefs come out to the tables and grill right in front of you. We only had two chefs last night to cook for the tables and there were three servers, each with one table. You do the frickin’ math. And guess who was odd man out? Yea. So they’re waiting, and I’m apologizing to everyone at the table about the wait and explaining the situation when this kid, out of nowhere, looks me square in the eye and asks:

Him: “Yes, waiter. When exactly will our chef be coming out?”
Me: “Oh, well…I’m sorry, but like I said…there’s only two chefs and as you can see, there’s three…”
Him: “I didn’t ask for excuses.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Him: “Are we going to have to cook this meal ourselves?”

I look at the mom, but she has a look on her face like she agrees with this little punk. Well screw her too. This kid couldn’t have been older than eight years old. I’m not gonna take crap from someone a decade and a half younger than me.

Me: “Ma’am…”
Her: “When is our chef coming out?”
Me: “Goodbye.”

Talking back is a frickin’ learned behavior and it seems this kid had his fill of homework from his overly-bitchy mother. 

After the chef came out and the kid had eaten his fill, he asked for another soda. The mom didn’t want him having sugar or caffeine, so she asked he have a Diet Coke. After emptying about six packets of sugar into that kid’s cup, I gladly obliged.


The Glass Isn’t Empty, Lady.

November 27, 2006

Don’t all of you servers hate it when you’re running around and some fatass lady thinks that her glass of sweet tea isn’t full enough and wants you to get her a brand-new one when she damn well knows that glass is about as full as it can get.

Last week, I had a woman complain that she had been sitting at her table with an empty glass for 15 minutes and demanded that I “get her a brand new glass of sweet tea this instant!”

Here’s a diagram to show you just how “empty” her glass was:


This is no exaggeration. The bitch’s glass was over 80% full. When I explained to her that whenever I would walk by, I saw an empty glass and didn’t think she needed a new drink she said, verbatim:

“Well, I just figured you could read my mind.”

If that’s not the definition of an idiot, I don’t know what is.

You Eat It, You Buy It. Sounds Simple Enough, Right?

November 25, 2006

This post goes out to the fat tub of lard that ate nearly all of his Imperial Dinner (the biggest thing on the menu) and then wanted his money back because “the filet wasn’t to [his] liking.”

You liked it enough to stuff all but two pieces into your mouth AND to eat all the rice, noodles, vegetables and chicken.

Maybe I should come to the Wal-Mart you work at, buy some fucking toasters, break the damn things and then return them because “they weren’t to MY liking.”

Oh, and he paid with a credit card. So if anyone knows a Michael E. Rossmannith, give him a swift kick in the balls for me.

I’m Thankful For All The Idiots That Come Into My Restaurant.

November 24, 2006

This woman came in the night before Thanksgiving with a very sour look on her face. She went up to the bartender/manager Yuki and said “I’m here to pick up my to-go order. Where is it?”

Yuki: “Umm…ma’am…we haven’t gotten a to-go order yet tonight.”
Woman: “I gave you my name, address and phone number.”
Yuki: “Alright. I’ll go check and see if anyone took your order and didn’t tell me.”

Sure enough, no one had taken a to-go order for this woman. Yuki even checked the caller ID in front of her, but she was not convinced.

Woman: “I’m in the middle of a MILLION things and all my family wanted was some SUSHI!”
Yuki: “Okay, ma’am…well…here’s a sushi menu if you’d like to order some sushi right…”
Woman: “Whatever!”

It was then that Yuki got the idea to ask the woman:

Yuki: “Did you call another restaurant by the name of [another restaurant]?”
Woman: “What do you mean ‘another restaurant’? Isn’t this [another restaurant]?”
Yuki: “No. This is [our restaurant].”
Woman: “Oh.”

I wouldn’t have had a problem with the lady mixing up the stores, but the arrogant-and-proud-of-it attitude is what made this woman a bitch. A bitch with a family that probably goes hungry quite hungry.

Hey Douchebag, If It’s Cold At Your House, It’s Gonna Be Cold At The Restaurant.

November 21, 2006

Backstory: I’m driving to work today at 3:30pm and I pass a bank telling me it’s 56 degrees. That’s in the afternoon. End of backstory.

A family walks in and complains that it’s “too dang cold in this here restaurant”. They then order a round of drinks and leave before the drinks get out to them because “it’s too cold for their baby and it was cold when they came last time”.

Your complaint may have been valid, sir, if you were wearing something other than A FRICKIN’ T-SHIRT AND JEAN SHORTS.

Firstly, anyone wearing jorts should not be taken seriously. Secondly, anyone that wears shorts and a t-shirt out and dresses their small child as if it were the middle of August does not deserve to even have a child to dress wrong.

The mom, of course, was wearing a skirt and a blouse.

This Isn’t Going To Go Over Real Well With The Recent String Of Women Viewing My Site.

November 18, 2006

NOTE: It has come to my attention that my site was recently linked in an online community entitled “Feminist Rage” and that several members of this community have viewed my site, commented on it and even started some constructive discussions.

My response: Keep it coming. You’re increasing 1) awareness of my website, 2) my site traffic and 3) the number of discussions about my writing. So please, invite all your friends, send out emails, post about my site in online feminist communities…whatever you want. Just don’t peg me as anti-woman. All I did was put the check in front of the dude because it was obvious he was gonna pay for it. That doesn’t make me sexist. It makes me a realist.

I could have posted about the times I’ve put checks in front of the women and they literally scoffed at me asking “Do you really think I’M going to pay?” or the bad tips I’ve received for that little misstep.

But I’m a better person. So, I won’t. Now, on to the story. And yes, this story will seem to be a very big coincidence, but I promise you it’s true:

Last night, a couple came in. The woman seemed to have had one too many drinks before they’d even set foot in the door. When I asked what they wanted for drinks, the woman replied with this:

Woman: “I’d like an unsweet tea.”
Man: “And I’d like a sake.”
Woman: “You want a water too.”
Man: “No, a sake will be…”
Woman: “He’ll want a water too.”
Man: “I guess I want a water too.”
(Uncomfortable silence)
Me: “And you didn’t even know you wanted it.”

I come back with the drinks and take up their sushi order.

Woman: “He’ll want a side of fried rice too.”
Man: “No I don’t.”
Woman: “He’ll have a side of FRIED. RICE.”

And then it happened.

Man: “Would you please stop being a bitch for once and just let me order what I want.”

Wow. Now I don’t advocate talking to women like this but that’s what happens when you mix alcohol and a dysfunctional relationship. You get a guy that has seemingly been walked all over and, with the help of alcohol, musters the courage to fight back. But he does it in the worst way possible: public humiliation and degradation.

P.S. They ordered three more sakes between them and were smiling as they walked out the door. The cure for an alcohol-induced argument? More alcohol.

Excuse Me, Ma’am. I Must Have Missed The “I Always Get Dessert” T-Shirt You Had On.

November 15, 2006

So a couple’s sitting at one of my last tables and I’ve taken their plates to the back and asked “Do you guys need anything else?” They answer with a no and I bring them the check. Then the woman just tears into me:

Her: “Do you all not have any coffee or dessert here? We don’t get coffee or dessert?”
Me: “No, ma’am. We don’t have coffee and I thought you said you didn’t need anything else.”
Her: “What does that have to do with dessert?”
Me: “Ummm…uh….”
Her: “Do you ALWAYS bring the check without asking if they want dessert?”
Me: “Ma’am, I asked if you needed anything else.”
Her: “Whatever.”

From now on, whenever I say “anything else”, that implies ANYTHING ELSE. Dessert, more food, a lap dance. ANYTHING. Alright?