I had an unusual encounter with a table last night and I’m still not sure what happened.
I was out in the big section and every time I looked up, the cashier was double seating me. I’m old, fat and slow and the big section is miles away from the kitchen and waitstation. It has booths which seat up to 6 people and the cashiers hold the large parties for these booths. While other servers might be juggling 20 people, the server in the big section can have up to 36 people all needing attention RIGHT NOW!
Angel seated a family of 5 at Table 13 and considering my section was bursting at the seams with people in a rush to go to the rodeo NOW, I thought everything went quite well. I joked with them, smiled, kept their drinks refilled, prebused their table, and brought them extra rib sauce. When I asked if they wanted a box and the man asked to talk to the manager, I honestly thought they were going to say something pleasant about either the food or me. Well, I was wrong.
It seems I did nothing right.
- I was in a bad mood. BS: I’m making money hand over fist and I’m damned happy about it.
- I was impatient while taking their order. BS: I patiently stood by while you let your teenaged sons whisper their order to you so then you could repeat the order to me instead of just ordering for them in the first place. My mental clock told me I had enough time for this. And if you are referring to the rocking I do while I’m taking the order, I do it anytime I’m standing still. I do it in church, I do it waiting in line, I do it when I’m taking orders. It relaxes me and makes my back hurt less. If you don’t like it, why don’t you just ASK why I’m doing it?
- I slammed their food and drinks on the table. BS: Since they were at a big table with a high chair on the end, I couldn’t reach the table to slam anything on it. I had to hand the glasses and plates to the parents so they could pass them down.
- I stormed off. BS: No. I stood there and attended to your needs just like I do for every table after I drop off their food. “Do you need mustard, more rib sauce, ranch? I see your sons need more root beer, let me get those for you. Let me take away those empty plates so you have more room. All set? Okay, I’ll be back to check on you, but until then enjoy your dinner.” Liars go to Hell. I do this at every table so don’t tell my manager I didn’t do it at yours.
- The man had to ask for his drink. BS: Since I’m not psychic and since he didn’t order when everyone else ordered their drinks, yes, he had to ask for his drink. This is not my fault. If you decide you want a 7 Up when your meal is nearly finished don’t make it seem that I forgot to bring it. When you asked, you received it.
The interesting thing about this whole situation is that the family had been really friendly and nice until they asked to speak to the manager. When they finished complaining, Chetto said he would talk to me (he knew none of their accusations were true) and he walked away. I returned with their box as he was leaving and the previously nice guy yanked the box from my hands and threw it on the table. The woman threw the money for the check on the table and the guy elbow-shoved me out of the way as he was leaving. Of course at this point I didn’t know they complained, so I stood there with a stupid confused smile on my face as they stomped out of the restaurant.
So what gives? Were they angling for a free meal or was it a personality misunderstanding? All of my other tables thought I was funny as hell, so what happened with this table?