Tweet
So I've been working at MG for, what, a few weeks now. So I'm pretty much learning as I go, seating guests, cleaning, silverwear roll-ups, to-go, etc...
I have three for you. This accidentally got kinda long. If you only read one, read #1 at the bottom. Full of comic gold, I tell you.
3. I go in to use the ladies' room, and I always use those seat protectors, but as I enter the stall, I see, black in comparison to the stark-white rim, the longest pubic hair I have ever seen. It looks as though someone has lovingly placed it there, as though it were a present. Now, I know I'm supposed to treat these people very well, holding doors and such, but c'mon, is it so hard to wipe the seat when you're done? It is a pube. A pube I want less than nothing to do with. What the hell? Are you mentally deficient? Or do you think you're giving me a special gift?
2. This is how it works at my place; the servers are assigned three tables apiece and it is our job to make sure people sit at those tables. C needed me to sit a table for her, (emphasis; not a booth,) and we tried. Oh, did we try. At least ten times. And ALL of those times, when we reached the table, I was asked the ever-amazing, "Can we have a booth instead?" Look. I don't care if you want a booth. Do not make me trek across the entire restaurant three times because you didn't mention it when we went to seat you. SAY THAT WHEN YOU GET TO US. Seriously. What do you think, you're just gonna cross your fingers and hope? We have to make sure every server gets an even and fair amount of tables, so you're messing up our rotation anyway. Do not completely ruin us by letting us think we're okay, then pull tricks on me at the last minute. Don't blame it on your child, either. We can accomadate the brat(s) just fine at booths AND tables. I've seen it done!
We hit a wait. One couple that had been waiting had two kids, one of whom was an infant. I sat them at a table, after it had cleared up. Drumroll, please... They ask for a booth. I tell them (truthfully) that there are none available and when I offer them to wait longer for one, they decline. The mother proceeds to leave the sleeping baby in the cradle in the middle of the aisle. And starts looking over the menu. As though this is somehow logical. "Yes, I can't have a booth, so I'll let the waitress trip on my baby! That will show them, ha!" ?? So I asked her to put the baby on the table, out of the way. Why do that to your baby? Whyyy? Your baby is NOT an implement of ultimate revenge, unless of course I EAT it to prevent it from growing up with your DNA.
1. This is the good one. These two older men (50s-60s) had been drinking at the bar since about 2 in the afternoon. I arrive at 5:30pm, and see them, talking VERY LOUDLY still in the bar, and see our managers (three of them, which is downright odd,) standing up front by the door. Apparently, they'd tried to leave to drive themselves home, but they were, of course, completely trashed. So we were babysitting them. The bosses had given them three options, leave and we get their liscence plate numbers and call the police, call somebody to pick them up, or we would pay for a cab ride home for both of them. Well, the night picks up. Around 7pm or 8pm the managers have left, busy with other things. One of the men slips out. Co-worker runs out to grab the liscence plate number; we call the police. The other man at some point slipped out, too. This is how it went down.
The first man was found in Starbucks down the street, (tee hee, for those who know my other place of employment,) and when he left, the police gave him a sobriety test. This man failed to say the alphabet properly. Since he wasn't actually IN his car, they couldn't arrest him, but they detained him, brought him to the station, to have somebody pick him up. The second man, who'd slipped out after his buddy, was arrested when police caught him driving under the influence. In case you aren't keeping track, that's us trying to teach two losers that they can't get away with that kind of childish behavior. How embaressing.
All this, when we offered to pay for a cab to take them home. Suckers. I love my bosses, sometimes. That's right, kiddies, don't drink and drive on their watch! I feel bad for their wives. I never want to marry a man I have to babysit, or pick up from the bar when he's too drunk! What jerks.
I have three for you. This accidentally got kinda long. If you only read one, read #1 at the bottom. Full of comic gold, I tell you.
3. I go in to use the ladies' room, and I always use those seat protectors, but as I enter the stall, I see, black in comparison to the stark-white rim, the longest pubic hair I have ever seen. It looks as though someone has lovingly placed it there, as though it were a present. Now, I know I'm supposed to treat these people very well, holding doors and such, but c'mon, is it so hard to wipe the seat when you're done? It is a pube. A pube I want less than nothing to do with. What the hell? Are you mentally deficient? Or do you think you're giving me a special gift?
2. This is how it works at my place; the servers are assigned three tables apiece and it is our job to make sure people sit at those tables. C needed me to sit a table for her, (emphasis; not a booth,) and we tried. Oh, did we try. At least ten times. And ALL of those times, when we reached the table, I was asked the ever-amazing, "Can we have a booth instead?" Look. I don't care if you want a booth. Do not make me trek across the entire restaurant three times because you didn't mention it when we went to seat you. SAY THAT WHEN YOU GET TO US. Seriously. What do you think, you're just gonna cross your fingers and hope? We have to make sure every server gets an even and fair amount of tables, so you're messing up our rotation anyway. Do not completely ruin us by letting us think we're okay, then pull tricks on me at the last minute. Don't blame it on your child, either. We can accomadate the brat(s) just fine at booths AND tables. I've seen it done!
We hit a wait. One couple that had been waiting had two kids, one of whom was an infant. I sat them at a table, after it had cleared up. Drumroll, please... They ask for a booth. I tell them (truthfully) that there are none available and when I offer them to wait longer for one, they decline. The mother proceeds to leave the sleeping baby in the cradle in the middle of the aisle. And starts looking over the menu. As though this is somehow logical. "Yes, I can't have a booth, so I'll let the waitress trip on my baby! That will show them, ha!" ?? So I asked her to put the baby on the table, out of the way. Why do that to your baby? Whyyy? Your baby is NOT an implement of ultimate revenge, unless of course I EAT it to prevent it from growing up with your DNA.
1. This is the good one. These two older men (50s-60s) had been drinking at the bar since about 2 in the afternoon. I arrive at 5:30pm, and see them, talking VERY LOUDLY still in the bar, and see our managers (three of them, which is downright odd,) standing up front by the door. Apparently, they'd tried to leave to drive themselves home, but they were, of course, completely trashed. So we were babysitting them. The bosses had given them three options, leave and we get their liscence plate numbers and call the police, call somebody to pick them up, or we would pay for a cab ride home for both of them. Well, the night picks up. Around 7pm or 8pm the managers have left, busy with other things. One of the men slips out. Co-worker runs out to grab the liscence plate number; we call the police. The other man at some point slipped out, too. This is how it went down.
The first man was found in Starbucks down the street, (tee hee, for those who know my other place of employment,) and when he left, the police gave him a sobriety test. This man failed to say the alphabet properly. Since he wasn't actually IN his car, they couldn't arrest him, but they detained him, brought him to the station, to have somebody pick him up. The second man, who'd slipped out after his buddy, was arrested when police caught him driving under the influence. In case you aren't keeping track, that's us trying to teach two losers that they can't get away with that kind of childish behavior. How embaressing.
All this, when we offered to pay for a cab to take them home. Suckers. I love my bosses, sometimes. That's right, kiddies, don't drink and drive on their watch! I feel bad for their wives. I never want to marry a man I have to babysit, or pick up from the bar when he's too drunk! What jerks.
Comment