Been a few days

And the people who come into my job are just as stupid as always. Tonight, we introduced new “tab procedures”. Tab procedures consist of us either taking a guests credit card or paying out their check each time they order something. Now. At games, in the bowling and billiard areas, and the bars, I can understand taking a credit card/credit card numbers, but not from guests sitting at the tables. This was implemented on a FRIDAY FUCKING NIGHT of all nights. So, basically, I made 47 bucks, people didn’t wanna order after they paid for their meals, didnt want to order any dessert, didnt want to get more drinks. Those that DID give their credit card numbers were pissed as hell behind it.

Tab experience number 1: Two black guests. Seemed to be understanding. They decide they don’t want to start a tab, and at risk of my job, I let them slide, because I was busy and didn’t have time to piss them off. They pay with a credit card before they leave, and the table beside theirs informed me about overhearing “It’s becuase we’re black”.

Tab experience number 2: “Why should we have to start a tab while we’re sitting at a table?” “Sir, I don’t know, it’s a corporate policy that I have no control over.” “That’s just fucked up”. Guests leave.

Tab experience number 3: Guests give card number, are understanding, and gladly run the tab and keep their table open. While table is open, not being bussed, two more black guests come in. They stand before said table. I walk up to said table. “Can we sit here?” “No ma’am, I still have guests sitting here, they are currently running a tab with me. Until they have paid out, I can’t bus the table.” “So that means we cant sit down?” “Ma’am, I do apologize, but as I said, I can’t bus the food off the table until the guests have gone.” “I think thats bullshit, you just don’t want to wait on black people. Youre a fucking racist.” Walked out the door before I could say anything else.

I’m not going to be a conformist with these new fucking procedures for much longer, it’s costing me money, and I hate to say it, but most of the black and redneck guests have been really fucking offended by it, as would I if I were in their place.

Corporate is getting a long letter signed by all the cocktails soon….

My first homebound espresso maker

I bought it a few nights ago, my love for espresso driving me…probably to a heart attack one day. Anyhoo, here’s the pictures of it.

Espresso.jpg This is the new Mr. Coffee, 4-cup espresso maker, latte steamer, coffee-maker.

The first latte And here is the first drink I’ve made with the new espresso maker, nothing special, just a Cafe o’lait (I think anyway, I’m not good with those names. It’s just milk, sugar and a buncha espresso. I’m now up all night.

Now for the work stuff:

Work was awesome tonight, again, which surprises me because Sunday’s are usually drama filled. Well, there was some drama, but it didn’t involve me. Someone’s being “investigated” if you believe the word thats going around, for “inappropriate touching” meaning this person groped another persons penile area on the clock. Not sure if it’s true or not, but I’m lookin forward to finding out.

I’ve also been approached by a manager about teaching training classes at my job, which I’ve been wanting to do for months as the quality of the classes has dwindled lately. Many of our new people have said that they aren’t able to retain much from the classes, and that’s because the two “teachers” basically suck. They both happen to be the leaders of our serving depts. They’re great people, really, they just aren’t that great with classroom teaching from what I’ve been told. I have always been an interactive classroom teacher, in both of the other jobs that I’ve taught training classes, and I’m really looking forward to doing it again.

I’m also putting in an application to become a certified “Shift Leader”. Basically, if I get it, I’ll be doing the same things that I’ve been doing for months, only I’ll be getting paid a dollar or two more an hour. I’ll be making floor plans, assigning sidework, only if I get approved, I’ll be allowed to write people up for not doing what they’re supposed to be doing. I don’t plan on abusing the power, nice and fun as it would be. I will, however, use it on the lazy ones. “K” and “T” from the previous posts.

All in all, I’m really kinda disappointed about the lack of things to bitch about here in the past couple of days, and I promise there will be some good stuff coming for ya guys

Till then, happy eating, and always tip.

Sometimes you just have to do it yourself.

Over the past couple of months, theres been a couple of our cocktail staff that pretty much refuse to do anything at all for sidework. “K” and “T”. I can’t give names, anonymity and all, but let’s just say, they are horrendous when it comes to sidework and running sidework.

Any of you readers who have worked as servers or anything else in the restaurant industry, know that sidework is a part of the job, whether we like it or not. Now at my job, at least in my department, our sidework is basically nothing. We roll silverware…a staple of serving. We stock, clean, and reset our stations, and our server stations. Again…a staple. My question is : WHY DO THESE PEOPLE THINK THEY”RE BETTER THAN DOING SIDEWORK? We all have to do it, whether we’re closing and the ones who assign it, then get stuck with the extra, or we’re the early out people who have to do it so the closers don’t. I’ve been in the restaurant industry for over a decade now. I don’t particularly like to roll silverware, but I do it because it’s part of my job. I don’t particularly enjoy cleaning my tables, but I do it because it’s part of my job. I don’t particularly get turned on by stocking my sugar caddies and salt/pepper shakers, but I do it, because it’s part of my job.

The two servers in question don’t think they have to do any kind of work whatsoever, besides standing with their arms crossed bitching about how they’re not making money, whilst they ignore their tables and refuse to help anyone out. Why either of those people still have jobs is beyond me.

I ended up rolling a bin of silverware tonight just so I wouldn’t have to listen to “K” whine about it as he/she (once again, anonymity for those who read my blog) always tends to do. This person nicked their finger on a knife a few weeks ago while sorting silverware, and has been scared to do it ever since. The finger didn’t even bleed. The server was sent home in agony. Maybe one of you in the mediblog industry had this person come to your ER for their hurt finger!

On a much lighter note, other than the sidework, I actually had a great night. I got my ass kicked for a bit, but I didn’t really have many rude or obnoxious guests sitting in my section. Had a couple toward the end who decided they were too good to tip after running me like a dog, and just staring at me like i was a weird looking lesion. I get that I’m not all that pretty, but I’m also not trying to impress a couple of lesbians either. Damn dykes, giving us homosexuals bad reps for tipping. We generally tip pretty damn well, specially those of us in the service industry. But these two were just…..dour? No, not the right word. Maybe snobbish. Anyway, they just were not fun at all, and didn’t talk to me. Pointed at the menu, and didn’t tip. Oh well. I had some people who really made up for it.

I had two awesome ladies in tonight, who sat for about an hour and a half, two hours or so. I sat with them as they drank, had them both giggling. They were both pushing about 40 or so, and I have a way with making those women feel special, especially when they come in looking like someone just flayed their cat alive like they did. By the time they left tonight, they were laughing, smiling, and giving me hugs as they walked out the door. 15 on 70 between the two of them wasn’t a bad tip either. Not the greatest I’ve ever gotten, but the fun I had with them made it worth it. I did end up doing pretty well with my tips tonight, so I left happy.

To the two ladies who made my night, thank you. I really hope you were honest about coming back and seeing me, because ya’ll put me in a great mood. You both know who you are, because I gave you both the address =).

To the bartender that lost my ticket and claimed you didn’t pull it: drink some coffee, stop running your mouth, and work. Don’t deny pulling the ticket and not making the drink just because you lost it, that’s just rude.

To everyone else, have a great day, and remember, it’s Sunday now, there’s always good shit for me to write about after a sunday night shift.

“How much is Sweet Tea?”

I swear, if you have to ask how much a soda, or tea is, then you shouldn’t be coming out to eat. It was ghetto night last night, and it didn’t happen till the last few minutes I was there. That’s a lie, it happened all night. Tips were so shitty last night, it just wasn’t worth my time to be there. If you run me like a dog, then tip me accordingly. Not 2.87 on a 65 dollar check. Not a dollar on a hundred dollar check.

So me and “N” had a party come in and sit in both of our sections, so we ended up splitting it. I didn’t mind that in the least, a quick 16 bucks from the grat, that didn’t get rung up under my name. Somehow, I ended up with 8 high school girls who all had separate checks. And the chaperone, some fat woman, made sure to go to each person and tell them, “The tip is included, don’t leave them anything extra.” I hate that. Sometimes more than 18 percent is deserved. Especially after 8 high school girls run you for 6 refills each in the first 10 minutes they’re there. Waters. Waters…and more waters…and sharing of meals…I hate high school girls.

Telling you all of high school girls makes me remember the cheerleader convention that came to town a couple months after I started where I was at. During the holidays….

There were swarms of them. Anorexic, ghetto, slutty looking, blond bimbo trashy little girls. When I see a table sit down, and i see cell phones and sidekicks come out to text the little brat at the next table instead of just talking, and hear that annoying giggle, it really makes me want to puke. Then, they start playing games. Twenty loud blond teenage girls, all having their skirts up to their baby coozies makes me want to projectile vomit into their eyes, blinding them. They play a crane machine. One at a time now. As soon as the crane moves a quarter of an inch, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH” at the top of their lungs. Another inch, and another “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH” Imagine a roller coaster full of terrified kids and middle aged women. Or a woman being chased by a mugger. That, in a semi close area, on top of annoying top 40 music, right next to the entrance to the kitchen, right next to your section. For at least 3 hours. 3 hours a night…for the entire weekend…..makes me shudder with fear to this day. I didn’t like the cheerleaders when I was in school, and it’s not that I was unpopular. I was the token gay kid, that everyone loved because they liked diversity at my school and i was the only one with the guts to come out. The cheerleaders tried to accost me and make me their token gay friend, but i was forced to flee, because they gave me migraines with their incessant screaming even then.

I had lots of price checkers last night…(sorry, had to get off the cheerleader subject, got a headache). I’m talking price checkers on everything, even the things where the prices are listed in the menu. I’m sorry, but I don’t have EVERY single drink in our 220 drink menu memorized with price, ingredients, proof of alcohol, and taste (i’m a sober kid now). That’s a bartender thing, and I haven’t yet moved to the bar. The woman who asked me how much the sweet tea was didn’t get one when she found out that after tax, and with free refills, it would be 2.48 or so. She got a side of fries with her water. No tip.

“How much is a jack and coke?” “it’s about 6 bucks before the tax” “Well thats just to goddamn much” “Then go to a liquor store, I’ve got other guests while I’m arguing with you.”

I swear, if I didn’t like waiting tables, and enjoy meeting new people and getting new shit for this blog, I’d probably find a different line of work. There are certain guests who make my nights great.

Making the kids smile and laugh…

Parents who actually control their kids..

My regulars, who come in to hear my drama, laugh with me, actually care about how things are going, and tip lavishly ( I wouldn’t care if they did or not being that they come and see me a few times a week.)

I have a couple of regulars that come in every week, sometimes twice a week. They drink up a storm, and call a cab when they get too drunk…well, i call the cab for them. They ask how things are going with my partner and i, my family, and they always like to hear my drama. I tell them about the stupidity of most of my guests, and they laugh. When they came in a week and a half ago, and asked how i was doing, I told them the truth, that at the time, my partner and I were staying in a motel. The reason, I fucked up with the extension on our light bill and the lights were cut off behind it. My fault, not a big deal, i paid rent and grocery shopped the night before it was due, and i didnt realize it. They’re back on now. Anyway, these guests actually offered to pay the bill. I’d never have accepted an offer like that, not even from my family. I’d let my family help, but not pay the whole thing. I was in tears. Here’s a middle aged couple that comes to eat and drink, offering to help me with my light bill. For the sake of anonymity, i won’t post their names, but they have this blog address, and they know who they are.

The first thing they do when they come in the front door, is ask if I’m working. They’ve only stayed once when I wasn’t there, because no-one pays attention to them. The reason no one pays attention to them? They’re black. The black servers don’t wanna wait on black people, and the other white servers don’t wanna wait on them.

Me personally, I couldn’t give a rats ass if someones black or white, yellow or green, so long as they tip me well, and treat me right. Don’t run me like a dog just to see me run, don’t cuss me out because the cooks fucked up your steak, or the expo accidentally let a piece of bacon bit fall on your potato. I have a problem with servers who racially profile. I learned against it years ago. Yes, there’s gonna be black people who run ya like a dog, just like there’s gonna be white people who do it. Let me tell ya, rednecks are 10 times worse than black people when it comes to serving, until gratuity time. Black people, excuse me, ghetto black people, don’t think they should have to pay grats. It’s in the menu. I also have a problem with servers who completely refuse to take a table because the table is black. It does happen, even with the black servers. Why they don’t get fired, even when reported, is beyond me.

Anyway, this is a long enough blog, and I have to sleep for my night shift tonight, be there 4-about 2am.

I’m sure there will be another post tomorrow, so come back soon everbody =).

If you cuss me out, you’re probably not going to be served right

It was a slow night at my job tonight, at least in the beginning. Toward the end of the night, I got a little business once I was the only cocktail in the game room.

I walked up to a table that had been sitting for a couple of minutes, went through my spiel, and the gentleman ordered a drink from me. I asked him for his ID, and he told me that the bartender had it. I asked him if he had a tab running, he said yes. I told him that I’d have to start a new tab for the table if he wanted to order from me, and he said he’d just order from the bar. That was fine….until about 10 minutes later.

“Are you supposed to be my waiter or something?” It was the woman from his table. I stopped at the table. “Ma’am, I was told by your friend that you already had a tab runnin at the bar, and you’ll have to order from her.” Keep in mind, that neither of them told me they’d be paying separately.

“Well I need to order some food.” I decide to be nice and take the order for the bartender, who is slow as dirt mind you, and give it to said bartender.

“Can I order off the kid’s menu?” Hell no, bitch, you cant. But what I really said was, “Ma’am, the kids menu is for kids, 12 and under. I can ask my manager, but I can tell you what he’ll say.” “Well get to it then.” Not the best way to get me to help you out honey, not the best way at all. I ask my manager, and he tells me no.

“That’s just fucked up.” What the Hell do I care if you can’t order from the kids menu or not. You’ve already pissed me off. I take her order and give it to the bartender.

A little while later, I walk past the table again, and Cuntilishis is sitting there with no drink. I don’t know if it’s because she hasn’t got her id or what, but I stop by there again. “Are you gonna be drinking anything? Need a glass of water?”

“I ordered my fuckin drink 10 mintues ago. Yall are so goddamn slow.” If this bitch cusses me again I’m gonna have her thrown out.

“Well, ma’am, you didn’t order it from me, and if you continue to use that language with me, I’m going to have you escorted out of here.”

“Excuse me?” “You heard me.” “well, you all fuckin suck.” “Well, I’ll just let you tell the manager all of this.”

Turns out, she wanted to pay cash for her drinks, which noone told me, even though I asked. I got her two drinks, pissed her off asking for her ID to serve her, and ended up telling her to pay her tab before I called the manager on her.

Restaurant guests, when you talk to your server like a dog, chances are youre gonna get shitty service. Keep that in mind when you come in acting ghetto as hell, when you run us like dogs, and when you come in acting ghetto as hell.

“My kids? My kids would never do such a horrendous thing!”

If you weren’t such a lush ma’am, then maybe you would have time to teach those two heathens of yours some respect!

This comes from saturday night. A couple and their two kids come in to eat. They’re picky. Picky as hell. I find out that they’d already been drinking and not tipping at the bar while the kids play games. They end up getting a bottle of faux wine from me. The kids come back to talk to their parents, and I watch one of them throw a note into the booth behind theirs. I grab the note. “You have the biggest ears ever, DUMBO”. Now that stopped really bothering me YEARS ago. I have big ears, just somethin that I was born with. So instead of confronting the table for the kids (11 and 13) lack of respect, I took the note to one of my managers, and let him do it. Told him it didn’t really bother me, but apparently it bothered him. He told them off, and the mother proceeded to go off on a rant to me. “Ma’am, I’m not discussing this with you.” I said that 2 or 3 times before I walked off.

They wanted to take their bottle of wine with them. Manager from above refused to let them take it. Half of their check comped, and no tip, not that I really expected one anyway. I got a note from them on their credit card slip saying “Thanks for ruining our evening, Truly.” I just smiled and walked off. My other three tables were awesome, and tipped me quite well. Bills paid, food bought, Happy Steven =-).

Tonight. Fathers Day. HELL.

I get to work and food is taking 30 minutes or longer all afternoon. No bussers, one food runner, no dish-washer. I play catch up in my venue, get tea, then get stuck with a party of 20. Separate checks. 16 kids and 4 adults. Exact ratio of adults to kids needed to stay in the building. As soon as I drop off the drinks to all three tables of kids, I have to get about 4o refills before I can even TAKE their orders…..I hate children…

Children were in there all night….I hate children….

“I don’t like this, can I try something else?”

It’s almost like coming to my job means an instant taste-test of all the drinks in the menu! I had a guest order a glass of YT Shiraz. “I don’t like this, can I try something else?” As soon as she said this, I knew what I was in for. Not only was she a taste-tester, she was a price checker. No tip coming from this one. She tried to go through more than 2 drinks without finishing one before I said the next test, she had to pay for. The management will comp the first, and unfortunately they usually comp the second, but no more than that. It’s the fact that they shouldn’t even let them have any of it free. They ordered it, they saw the ingredients, they knew it’d be strong. DEAL WITH IT!

I had some Jamaican people in for dinner tonight. They bitched….and bitched….and bitched….and bitched. “My chicken fingers are cold mon, you aren’t gonna mek me pay for dem are ya?” Well of course they’re cold! YOU DIDN’T EAT THEM FOR THE FIRST 20 MINUTES THEY SAT AT THE TABLE!!


“Thers bacon in my potatoes. I told you I don’t eat bacon” “Sir, that’s the skin of the potatoes.” “It looks like bacon” “It isn’t” “Yes, it is” “No, it isn’t” “Fine, sir, can I get you something else?” “Some potatoes without bacon”. I took his potatoes into the hall, stood there for a minute, and came back out. He ate them without problem.

This week has also been hick week at my job, and I haven’t figured out why unless it’s because of Bonaroo way out in BFE. I sold more “spraht” tonight than I have in months. Hicks rarely know how to tip either. They don’t want to spend more than like 20 bucks, so you get MAYBE a dollar from the majority. There are those that surprise ya though. I got 2o bucks from one set tonight. Then again, people who drink bottled beer tip better than the drafters, and I haven’t figured out why. Maybe they’re just more easygoing?

I have to put this question out there. Can most diners read? I don’t understand it when theres someone LOOKING at the menu, and they still have to ask stupid questions.

Some of the better ones: A gentleman is looking at the appetizers. “What kind of appetizers do you have? I’d like some pork egg rolls and soy sauce.” That’s nowhere on the menu

“Do you have chocolate ice cream?” While looking at the dessert menu.

“Where are your burgers?” While looking at the burgers.

“Do kids eat free? Well why not? They do at O’charleys!”

“Do these kids meals come with a drink? No? Yall be drinking water tonight!”

Stupidity has been rampant this week, and I’m not sure how much more I can take. Maybe it’s time to see if fine dining is any better…..

The “To-Go” Cup

Ok, a couple of Sundays ago, I was standing around bored in my empty bowling alley, waiting for a few guests to pop in and graciously give me their money, when I decided to pay a visit to the host stand of the dining room.

“I’m telling you, three weeks ago, I was here, and I got a to-go cup to take my tea home, and I want one tonight.” It was a big, fat, church-reject black woman, embarrassing the hell out of her kids and husband. Normal at my job sadly.

The hostess, we’ll call her Mizz T, was pretty new, but she knew that we’d never had to-go cups there, because our place has three bars for people to steal liquor from, or to sneak liquor out of, whichever way you want to put it. Mizz T was being very kind to this hateful beast of a woman. I stood there and listened for a minute, wondering how such a fat woman could get her neck to move in such ways while she talked. I tried it myself later, and about threw my neck out. My best friend Tootie says it must be a black thing, yet she’s black and can’t do it herself. (she says she’s white, but that’s another blog)

Mizz T “Ma’am, are you sure it was here that you got this to-go cup?”

Fatass “Yes, young lady, it was three weeks ago. I have a long drive and I need to take my tea with me, so just go get me one. I know you have them.”

Mizz T “No ma’am, we don’t.”

About this time, I look at the other hostess who was standing there silent, trying not to laugh her ass off, and say just loud enough for Fatass to hear, “We’ve never had to go cups here have we?” Knowing full well we never did, not since it was another restaurant. Apparently, Fatass didn’t like this very much.

Fatass “You need to keep your mouth out of other people’s business. I was talking to this young lady here, and you need to shut up before I have you fired.” Keep in mind that while I said what I said quite loudly, I didn’t direct it to her.

Me “Ma’am, please don’t talk to me like that or threaten my job over nothing. I was merely saying that we’ve never carried to-go cups here.”

Fatass “And I’m telling you to shut up. Noone was talking to you. And yes, I did get a to-go cup here, three weeks ago! You’re lying when you say you dont have them now”

I’m at a crossroads of laughing at her and really wanting to push the situation as far as I could out of sheer boredom. This church woman is going off on me.

Fatass “You need to just back the hell up because youre white ass doesnt know who youre messing with”

Me. “Ma’am, if you keep talking to me like that, I’ll have you tossed out of here on your ass.”

At this point, I decided to call the manager, because the woman started pissing me off. Her family was pulling at her, trying to get her to leave, but she just wanted to keep on. I like drama as much as the next person, but at that point I had people going into the bowling alley, and had a chance to make some money. I wasn’t even intending on being there as long as I was going back and forth with the woman, but what can ya do.

Fatass ended up cussing the manager out also, because he basically told her she was lying. Before she left, however, she made sure to threaten my job one last time, and her final words are,

“This mother fucker don’t know who he’s messing with. Whoever trained him needs to be fired, he needs to be fired, and you need to be fired. Whoever trained him didn’t do a good job, and his mother didnt do a good job if he can’t stay out of other peoples business. I was talking to that young lady, and not him.” Well, bitch, I wasn’t technically talking to you at first either, but you changed that real quick, didn’t ya.

“Do we get free refill on whie ziffadel?”

Let’s all get down with the dumbass everyone! Tonight at work people must have put some rocks on their cans and smoked before they walked in to eat. The quote I chose to use for the title of the post was an actual question from a guest I had tonight. He and his girlfriend came in to eat, got a sweet tea, a glass of Beringass (beringer) a BBQ Chicken and Ribs platter, a Blackened Chicken Pasta, and an appetizer of Queso, Guac, dip and chips. “This cheese just aint right”. Comp. “Do we get free refill on whie ziffadel?” Not white zinfandel, whie ziffadel. Those were dumbass set number 1.

#2. “Why are all of these tables open? Are they reserved or something?” Now to understand this, you must know that the venue of the restaurant that I personally serve in is OPEN SEATING. First come, first served. Find a seat, take a seat. Booths all around.

“Are they reserved or something?” the gentlehick asked. “No sir, the tables back here are all first come first serve.”

“Does that mean we can just sit anywhere?”

“Yes sir, they are first come, first serve.” I respond, wondering why he didn’t get it the first time.

Yet the gentlehick kept on. “We can sit anywhere?”

“Yes, sir, these tables are all first come, first serve.” At this point, I’m starting to lose my patience, I have two tables to greet, and food to run.

“Well I have a party of 3, and we want to sit down. Can we sit anywhere back here?”

“Yes, sir, these tables are all first come, first serve.” I start to walk away, hoping that I could escape without anything else being said….”Can you hold a table for me while I go and get my family?” There went the escape.

“No sir, these tables are all first come, first serve.” I try again to walk away, only to feel a hand on my arm. “Why can’t you hold a table for me?”

“Because these tables are all FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE.” The hick-man just kind of looked at me. “I just want to know if you can hold this table for me.”

I’m finally at the end of my rope. “Sir, I cannot hold a table for you, because that would be unfair to the guests who understand that they can just sit anywhere. Holding a table defeats the purpose of FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE!” I walk off, leaving the moron bewildered and staring at the table.

The table I escaped the hick to greet was yet another hick. “Hey guys, welcome to __________, how are ya’ll doing tonight?” It’s not a 4 star restaurant by any means, and I’m a country boy myself. Not quite at hick level, but not snotty assed prep either. (no offense to those of you who ARE snotty assed preps.)

“We’re doin’ fine main, we done ate up in that there front room, and we wanta eat a dessert.” Upon hearing this, I grab the menu conveniently placed on his table, and open it to the dessert page. As I’m doing this, “Do yall have desserts here?”

“Yes sir. We have a fantastic Bananas Foster Pie, and great New York Cheesecake”

“So do you have desserts here?” I was confused. Did I not just offer two of them to the new hick in my life? I grab the menu and show it to him. “Here’s our dessert menu sir, if you and your wife would like to have a look.”

“So you do have desserts here. Well, what are they?” Once again, I start plotting escape, and silently cursing the other two cocktails for sticking me with this table in the first place. ‘Next shift, we take sections, and not take turns’ I think to myself.

“Yes sir, here is our dessert menu.” I can’t tell if this moron is even LOOKING at the menu becuase he says to me, “So where is yalls dessert menu?” At this point, im near to smacking him across the face with the dessert page of our menu, but I knew that I’d lose my job for that one. Instead, I just show him one more time where the desserts are listed and try again to walk off.

“Yall got banana splits here?” Can these people not even look at pictures? “No sir, but we have a great bananas foster pie.” I offer again. “What’s that?” Progress. It takes me about 10 miunutes to explain what the pie consists of, because the moron just wont get it.

On the plus side….not nary a one of these hicks tonight ordered a cup of coffee from me. I might have just walked out.

My First Post

Hi everyone, I’m Steven. This is gonna start out with all the introductions of myself, just so you all know what you’re getting into.

I’ve been waiting tables/bartending for almost 11 years now, and while I’m not necessarily “bitter”, I damn sure have a lot to say about people, both my co-workers and the morons who come in and eat.

I guess I should start off by telling you about where I work. I work at basically a sports bar/restaurant/bowling alley/game room in Nashville.