Little People, Big World.

Sometimes, I’m the idiot.

Tonight was incredibly fast and as a result, didn’t have time to think before I said or did things. I was acting on pure instinct and ritual, which with someone like me (see: jackass) is not a good thing.

I was sat a couple. The man was a literal dwarf. He stood three feet high and his feet hung off the chair. The only reason I didn’t think he was a child was because he had 1) the diction of a thirty-year old and 2) a beard.

So I’m running around and I notice the guy is running out of Sprite. I sprint through the server’s hallway, get him a Sprite on my way to another table and drop it off. What I said as I dropped off the drink was neither intentional nor in mean spirit, but for some ungodly, unneccessary reason, in my brain of brains, I decided it would be a good idea to tag on a “Here you go, big guy” to the drop-off of the drink.

What in the hell is wrong with me?

I didn’t turn around as I walked away. All I could think was that I had bought at least six or seven one-way tickets to Hell with that little comment and I didn’t even do it on purpose.

For the rest of their time there, I made sure to put that guy’s needs above everyone else’s as I tried to recoup some sort of dignity from calling the ONLY FRICKIN’ LITTLE PERSON I’VE SERVED “big guy”.

There’s a special circle in Hell designed for people like me.

There’s No Use Crying Over A Spilt Child.

Christmas break at a restaurant is a bitch.

The other night, a child was zooming around my restaurant in those frickin’ roller-blade/sneaker combinations and happened to zoom RIGHT INTO ME as I was carrying a couple of soups. Of course some of the soups spilled on my Happy Coat (the male version of the Kimono) but the worse part is, the kid fell down, started crying and BEGAN TO FRICKING POINT AT ME.

Now, for those of you that have never been in an awkward situation as this, a small, sobbing child pointing at you only magnifies what is a downright uncomfortable situation.

The mother comes over and exclaims, “What in the world did you do?” Of course the mom thinks it’s all my fault and not her daughter’s. Of course the big, bad waiter is to blame and not your little shit with the unneccessary wheels on her shoes. At this point, all I can say to defend myself is, “Ma’am, I’m sorry…but she ran into me.”

Incredulous, the mother responded with a “But my daughter would NEVER do something like that”, scooped the child up in her arms and went back to the table.

Ma’am, is your child so frickin’ pristine that she’d never ACCIDENTALLY run into someone. God forbid her shit doesn’t smell like roses or else you’d think she had the Devil himself inside her.

That Wouldn’t Hurt As Much As A Knife, Ma’am.

Monday night, I was first to get a table and was seated a very polite family of four and an eccentric senior citizen couple. Everything was going according to plan until the chef was out there for a few minutes. The woman was looking around the restaurant and finally caught my eye. So, I figured she needed something. I go over and say, “Oh, ma’am…do you need anything?” She gave me a confused look so I explain that I noticed she was looking around the restaurant.

Her: “If you come over to my table again, I’m going to run you through with my fork.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Her: “…”
Me: “Was that a joke?” Then I look at her husband and ask “Is she joking?”
Him: “…”
Me: “Okay, sorry about checking on you. I’m just your waiter.”

Run me through with a fork? I’ve heard of people getting upset that I wasn’t able to check up on them enough, but who goes ape-shit about their SERVER WANTING TO SERVE THEM?

Mr. Fireman, if you put out the fire in my house, I’m going to run you through with this fork.

Mr. Mailman, if you deliver my mail one more time, I’m going to run you through with this fork.

Mr. Server, if you try to check up on me one more time, I’m going to PHYSICALLY FUCKING ASSAULT YOU WITH THE FORK THAT YOU COINCIDENTALLY FRICKING SERVED ME.

The guy still tipped me 18%. Kind of makes me wonder how much more he’d have tipped me had I not…you know…served them.

You Were A Server?

These two couples come in and are loud as hell as they come through the front door. As Karma would have it, it’s my turn in the rotation.

Me: “Would you guys like some sushi menus with your meals?”
Guy 1: “Does it LOOK like we want some sushi?”

This was, of course, the funniest thing in the world to the four of them.

Me: “Uh…is this a trick question?
All of them: “Hahahahahahahahahaha!”
Me: “So…yes?”
All of them: “Hahahahahahahahahaha!”
Me: “…”
All of them: “…”
Me: “I’ll give you a couple just in case.”
All of them: “Hahahahahahahahahaha!”

Firstly, screw the four of you. I don’t care if you created the cure for polio, you’re a bunch of douchebags to me.

Secondly, since when is a waiter’s confusion the punchline to a joke? “To get to the other side” and “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” are punchlines…not “I don’t know whether or not you guys want sushi”.

So the four of them sit and I know right away that the women are going to want at least three drinks because they’re 1) women, 2) Jewish-looking and 3) women.

Woman 1: “I’ll have a glass of red wine and a glass of water.”
(Wait for it)
Woman 1: “…and a Purple Geisha specialty drink! Hahahahahahaha!”
Woman 2: “You are too much tonight, Ruth. I’ll have the same! Hahahahahahaha!”

Again, I don’t get the frickin’ joke.

Guy 1: “I’ll have a Budweiser and a glass…hold the sushi!”
All of them: “Hahahahahahahaha!”

Dammit.

Their entire meal was a replay of the following few paragraphs with appetizers, entrees and desserts substituted where the drink orders were. Everything was also as funny as an episode of “I Love Lucy” to them and “Matlock” to me. Fuck Matlock.

At the end of the meal, I went to go collect their checks. They left cash in the booklets (with change, those cheap geriatrics) and said the following:

Guy 2: “We were all servers growing up so we put a little extra in there for you.”
Woman 1: “Thanks so much!”
Woman 2: “Thank you!”

Between the four of them, they left me a grand total of $6.00. Their meal was over $80. I was pissed and did something I’d never done and will probably never do again. I took the change, went back to the table, sat the change on the table and said:

Me: “Here’s your change.”
Woman 1: “Oh, that’s for…”
Me: “Keep it.”
Woman 1: “But I don’t th…”
Me: “Keep it.”
All of them: “…”
Me: “Have a great night.”

Screw them. I don’t want them thinking their 6% tip would make me feel better, making THEM feel good in the process.

And yes, the looks on their faces was WELL worth the six bucks.

And I Didn’t Think You’d Be So Rude, Sir.

The other night, I went up to a couple at a table with a small child and the dad was on the cell phone. So I turned to the mom and asked, “Hi there, my name is Ryan and I’ll be your waiter tonight. May I get you something to drink?”

Mom: “Yes, I’ll have a coke. And can you bring my son a milk in a styrofoam cup?”
Me: “Sure. And for you, sir?”
Dad: “Excuse me? Can’t you see I’m on the phone here!?”
Me: “Sorry, sir.”

So I get the coke and milk and the guy’s still on the phone. I ask the woman if she knows what he’d like to drink and then the dude launches into a tirade:

Dad: “What? You can’t ask me?”
Me: “I did. You said you were on the phone. I didn’t want to bother you ag…”
Dad: “Well…I didn’t think you’d be so interrupting.”
Mom: “Honey, it’s a restaurant. He’s a waiter.”
Dad: “What did you just say?”
Me: “I’ll give you guys a few minutes.”

A few minutes later and the guy is fuming. “We need the check,” he said through literal clenched teeth. Poor woman. Whatever, at least I got two bucks out of it all. She, on the other hand, will probably get two black eyes.