January 27, 2007
I’m serving an Asian family of five last night. Why is it Asians are so frickin’ upity? It’s not them the Chinese are going after when they build up the balls to take over the world.
Me: (As I pass out the salads) “Would you like some chopsticks, ma’am?”
Her: “Oh. Just because I’m Vietnamese, you think I’d want chopsticks?”
Her: “Oh, so now you’re a smart-ass.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Her: “Just give me the chopsticks.”
Me: “So…you…do want them?”
Me: “Does anyone else want chopsticks?”
Everyone Else At The Table: “No.”
January 23, 2007
Guys. Stop being so cheap and maybe you’ll get invited back to her place.
Me: “Here’s your bill, sir.”
The Boyfriend: “Uh…ok…here you go. Keep the change.”
Me: (Looking inside and finding $70 on a $67.63 bill) “Was there something wrong with the service, sir?”
The Boyfriend: (Looking around nervously) “Uh…no…why?”
Me: “Because you only left me a 2 dollar tip.”
The Girlfriend: “You did what?! (Looking at me) I’m a waitress over at the Red Lobster down the street so I’m really sorry about him. Here you go. (Hands me a ten dollar bill to go with The Boyfriend’s tip).
(A few seconds later, they get up to leave).
The Boyfriend: “Listen…I’m…”
The Girlfriend: “Just drive me home.”
P.S. I’ve heard excuses regarding this story in terms of maybe the guy was broke and the girlfriend picked the restaurant, etc… Well, for starters, the guy ate the second-most expensive meal on the menu and the girl had the second-cheapest. The guy also ordered three drinks and the girl had water and an un-sweet tea. No excuses.
January 20, 2007
Last night, an older couple came into my restaurant and ordered some sushi. The woman just wanted some soup and salad. That’s cool. We weren’t busy and I could care less.
A few minutes after bringing the soup, the lady was done and asked if she could have another one. A few minutes later she asked again for another one. Then, when the guy was done with his meal, she asked for one to go. Ma’am, it’s just chicken broth and some french onion bits. You can make it yourself for less money than four soups at our place.
When I gave them the check, she grabbed me by the arm and asked “I thought you said you were going to give me some soup.”
Me: (pointing at empty soup bowls and to-go soup) “Umm…I did?”
Her: “No. I thought you were going to give them to me.”
Me: “I don’t think that’s how restaurants work, ma’am.”
Her: “Well, you’re just a smart-ass, aren’t you?”
Me: “You can take it up with my manager if you feel you weren’t treated fairly.”
Her: “Maybe I will.”
Me: “Okay, I’ll go get her for y..”
Her: (interrupting) “No, no, no. Don’t do that! I’ll just pay the damn bill.”
Sorry, ma’am. I know how confusing today’s world is compared to your freeloading generation of decades ago where young people could get soup in restaurants and not pay for it. I blame making old people pay for the food THEY ASKED FOR IN THE FIRST PLACE on the degradation of society as a whole.
P.S. Yes, ma’am. I agree that I should go to Hell for making you pay for the food you ate at our restaurant.
January 17, 2007
Me: “Can I get you something to drink, ma’am?”
Woman 1: “Yes, I’d like an ice water.”
Me: “Alright. I’ll be right out with that.”
(A few seconds later)
Woman 1: “What is this!?”
Me: “Umm…an ice water?”
Woman 2: “Why does it have a lemonin it!?”
Woman 1: “When I ask for an ICE WATER I don’t expect a LEMON.”
Me: “Sorry, ma’am. I guess it’s just because I’m so used to getting people lemons with their…”
Woman 1: “No excuses.”
Is this frickin’ high school football practice? “No excuses”? What’s next, calling me by last name from across the restaurant? How are you going to get all bent out of shape over a lemon wedge on the edge of your glass of water when that’s how 98% of the rest of the world drinks their water. That’s like asking for a house salad and then throwing a temper tantrum when they put tomatoes in it.
Sorry, ma’am. Next time you come in, I’ll ask if you want silverware with your meal, chicken with your “Chicken Dinner” and a straw with your drink. Screw you and your little fake breasts too.
P.S. Yea, that’s right. We all know your breasts are fake. Don’t flaunt them like they’re your own personal gift from God. Unless, of course, by “God”, you mean a “depressed, middle-aged, sexually frustrated husband who’s married to a frigid woman that snaps at waiters for putting lemons in their waters and whose only source of sexual excitement stems from the half-assed attempts of a plastic surgeon that, by the looks of things, flunked out of medical school twice.”
January 12, 2007
As I walk into the bathroom, I hear someone talking very excitedly into the phone in the closed-door stall. Curious, I listen in as I use the urinal.
Him: “Listen, baby, I’m here with my wife. How’s an hour sound?…Okay…Yea…Yea…No, that won’t work…Yea!…Okay, see you then.”
The look he gave me as he walked out of the stall and saw me washing my hands was one of first confusion and then fear. My expression nearly matched his as I realized this was the same man who just minutes ago I was serving onion soup and two Philadelphia sushi rolls to. I didn’t know this dude was my customer.
For the rest of the meal, the knot in my stomach made its way up into my throat as I saw this man affectionately kiss his wife, hold her hand with his left and feed his infant daughter steamed rice and cheerios with his right. I wonder if she had any idea. I wonder if their marriage was any good. I wonder if they laid in bed until 2 in the morning talking like my girlfriend and I do. I wonder if when he came back to the house he’d made a home, he showered before kissing his wife hello.
As they left, I heard the man say, “Okay, honey. I’ll catch up with you two at the house. I’ve gotta help Donald with something with his car.” She kissed him, smiled and walked out the front door and into her car. He stayed at the bar a few extra minutes and then jumped into his own car. I guess he’d thought ahead and brought two.
He was smiling too.
January 7, 2007
Girlfriend: “Yea, just wash the shirt I gave you in cold water before you wear it.”
Me: “I wash all my colors in cold water.”
Girlfriend: “Okay, Andrew Jackson.”
January 6, 2007
Me: “Can I get you two something to drink?”
Gay Guy #1: “I’ll have a large sake.”
Gay Guy #2: “Oooh…I can’t drink that stuff. Tastes like warm pee to me.”
Me: “Warm pee must taste pretty good.”
Gay Guy #1: “Oh, you are just too much!”
25% tip. Bam.