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Just when I think everything is running smooth and I'm on top of the world, something goes wrong.
The pita tax
On St. Patrick's Day I was having the same off-kilter day as my cw and of course, just about everyone was being an ass. Cw is running the register and while I'm in the middle of cooking I hear;
sc: You're going to take care of me because I've been waiting.
She prattles on about how she'd like her order, while I'm debating which fryer I should shove her head into.
me:*to my cw* The hell was that all about?
cw: I don't know, but I charged her the pita tax.
That's right, my wonderful cw charged her for being an ass.
Tips
I haven't quite figured out if we're in a vortex of bass-ackward tipping, but people that spend a dollar or two on a single soda will tip a couple bucks, as opposed to the people ordering fifty dollars-worth of food that don't tip a dime. As an awesome regular of mine said about a week ago, "If you have money to eat, you've got money to tip." Some of the non-tippers are repeat offenders and I always end up pointing them out to my cw if he hasn't remembered them, but us cooks, like elephants, never forget.
Liars
Oh and I not only hate, but despise liars. A month back, I had a woman ask for something we sold heavily on weekends, which of course is always sold out when you need it. If memory serves correctly, it was the next week she actually allowed her self-serving-idiot filter to break.
W: So you're out again?
Me: Yeah, they're very popular on the weekends.
she leaves and comes back later
W: You should tell your boss that monday people are upset you don't have it.
Me: I'll do what I can, but no promises on whether we'll have any by next week.
So essentially she wanted me to lie to my boss, the man that has done me no wrong in my three years there. Yeah that'll happen, right after I rearrange your face with the grill weight. She did eventually get what she came for, but that didn't happen till a month later. It didn't dawn on me till later that I could have essentially done what I used to do in retail, give a rain check. Oh well, she got what she came for and was happy; but I never have to see her again since I no longer work mondays.
Fast forward to this weekend; Easter and Texas Relays. *Oh boy, I can't wait.*
It wasn't as horrendous as it could have been, but as always we get stragglers after we close. We'd been busy all night and were still finishing off an order or two at about five-after closing.
A couple walks up to the counter with their child, standing in front of our closed sign.
M=Man W=Woman Me= Who else?
Me: Sorry guys we're closed.
M:Hey man I've got a three year old, could you help me out here.
Me: Well alright, what can I get for you?
M:Some ground beef nachos.
I rang him up, gave a time estimate and mentioned I'd call over our p.a. when it was done. Apparently his wife wanted something . . . the bitch.
W: Well, could we get something else?
I looked her dead in the eyes and without telling them to piss off I tried my damnedest to fend off another order.
Me: Realistically I shouldn't, given it'll take us about two hours to clean this place. But I suppose if its something really quick like fries.
W: Sure, I'll take some tenders with fries.
From here on I've decided, whether you have your adorable kid with you or not, if my kitchen is closed, you better stay the hell away from my grill. I think the only reason I let it slide was the fact that they pulled the "feed my kid card" and had their kid with them. Then again, why the hell is your three year-old up past ten, in a loud bowling alley? Like hell they were going to feed their kid nachos, well except maybe a piece of the chicken tenders.
I did have a woman try to pull that shit on me last night, except I stuck to my guns and told her it was either sodas and cookies or no food whatsoever.
The pita tax
On St. Patrick's Day I was having the same off-kilter day as my cw and of course, just about everyone was being an ass. Cw is running the register and while I'm in the middle of cooking I hear;
sc: You're going to take care of me because I've been waiting.
She prattles on about how she'd like her order, while I'm debating which fryer I should shove her head into.
me:*to my cw* The hell was that all about?
cw: I don't know, but I charged her the pita tax.
That's right, my wonderful cw charged her for being an ass.
Tips
I haven't quite figured out if we're in a vortex of bass-ackward tipping, but people that spend a dollar or two on a single soda will tip a couple bucks, as opposed to the people ordering fifty dollars-worth of food that don't tip a dime. As an awesome regular of mine said about a week ago, "If you have money to eat, you've got money to tip." Some of the non-tippers are repeat offenders and I always end up pointing them out to my cw if he hasn't remembered them, but us cooks, like elephants, never forget.
Liars
Oh and I not only hate, but despise liars. A month back, I had a woman ask for something we sold heavily on weekends, which of course is always sold out when you need it. If memory serves correctly, it was the next week she actually allowed her self-serving-idiot filter to break.
W: So you're out again?
Me: Yeah, they're very popular on the weekends.
she leaves and comes back later
W: You should tell your boss that monday people are upset you don't have it.
Me: I'll do what I can, but no promises on whether we'll have any by next week.
So essentially she wanted me to lie to my boss, the man that has done me no wrong in my three years there. Yeah that'll happen, right after I rearrange your face with the grill weight. She did eventually get what she came for, but that didn't happen till a month later. It didn't dawn on me till later that I could have essentially done what I used to do in retail, give a rain check. Oh well, she got what she came for and was happy; but I never have to see her again since I no longer work mondays.
Fast forward to this weekend; Easter and Texas Relays. *Oh boy, I can't wait.*
It wasn't as horrendous as it could have been, but as always we get stragglers after we close. We'd been busy all night and were still finishing off an order or two at about five-after closing.
A couple walks up to the counter with their child, standing in front of our closed sign.
M=Man W=Woman Me= Who else?
Me: Sorry guys we're closed.
M:Hey man I've got a three year old, could you help me out here.
Me: Well alright, what can I get for you?
M:Some ground beef nachos.
I rang him up, gave a time estimate and mentioned I'd call over our p.a. when it was done. Apparently his wife wanted something . . . the bitch.
W: Well, could we get something else?
I looked her dead in the eyes and without telling them to piss off I tried my damnedest to fend off another order.
Me: Realistically I shouldn't, given it'll take us about two hours to clean this place. But I suppose if its something really quick like fries.
W: Sure, I'll take some tenders with fries.
From here on I've decided, whether you have your adorable kid with you or not, if my kitchen is closed, you better stay the hell away from my grill. I think the only reason I let it slide was the fact that they pulled the "feed my kid card" and had their kid with them. Then again, why the hell is your three year-old up past ten, in a loud bowling alley? Like hell they were going to feed their kid nachos, well except maybe a piece of the chicken tenders.
I did have a woman try to pull that shit on me last night, except I stuck to my guns and told her it was either sodas and cookies or no food whatsoever.
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