Every. Single. Order. the kitchen put out last night was wrong.
Ordered: Beef plate with Cole slaw & beans.
Received: Beef plate with French fries & potato salad.
Ordered: Pork plate with potato salad & French fries; pork sandwich with Cole Slaw; beef sandwich with corn.
Received: Pork plate with Cole slaw & corn; beef sandwich with French fries.
And on and on and on. My very first order was wrong so I started checking the plates BEFORE I hauled them to the tables. I said, “This is wrong” so many times last night I finally got tired and just started rehanging the tickets and asking for a do-over. It was pathetic. Somebody needs to learn the abbreviations.
Then during the height of the dinner rush one of the cashiers dropped a bowl of beans on the floor by the buser station. The Mexicans “cleaned” them up by sweeping them in the butler, leaving bean goo on the floor. I stepped in the bean goo while carrying a stack of plates. One second I was up, the next I was on my ass on the cement floor, surrounded by broken dishes. Yay me. I got to continue working with bean goo on my ass.
Last night was not a good night. That’s all I have to say about that.