I went to work today thinking it was Monday. Monday means a slow night, maybe a rush at around 6, sidework finished by 8, leave the restaurant by 8:30. Obviously, I missed the memo about getting my ass kicked from 4:30 until 8. I was so far in the weeds they resembled a corn field.
Before work I read this post and if you read the comments, you will see where I added my two cents. We weren’t all that busy when I saw the woman from my comment standing at the door. I chanted, “notmysection, notmysection, notmysection, awwww,” as I watched Cora walk her to one of my tables. I had to make a couple of salads and get a few drinks, so by the time I made it back to the dining room, not only did I have the pain in the ass, but 2 more tables. Hell.
I dropped the salads and drinks, and I went down the line, pouring water and taking drink orders. I got to the PITA and she said, “Oh, I ordered coffee and lemons for my water from the other girl, but is the coffee fresh?”
“Are you sure.” Lady, I know you asked Cora these same questions and she gave you the same answers, so shut the hell up and let me take care of my other tables.
I assured her it was and, SHIT! THERE’S A NEW TABLE BEHIND ME.
I got their drink order. Two beers, two sodas, a pitcher of water and I was out of the waitstation…to find another damned table sitting down. BLOODY HELL! I went down the line dropping drinks and filling waters until I got to the PITA’s table.
This woman is annoying as hell when we aren’t busy, I figured I was probably going to slaughter her when I had 4 tables stacked behind her. She has to talk about her dietary concerns. She wants to know how 8 different menu items are prepared. She has to know if everything is fresh. She wants my opinion on what is the best option. She chews her nails and stares at the menu. What about the side dishes? Are they fresh? What was made today? What is in the beans? The Cole slaw? The potato salad? More chewing, more staring. Tonight was no different.
“I don’t really like red meat and I never eat steak, but someone told me a ribeye is a really good choice. What do you think?” If you want it, order it.
“A ribeye is a good steak…”
“But is there a lot of fat?”
“It is marbled, which is what…”
“Marbled. It has…”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it has fat throughout the steak.”
“Is it good?”
“I believe so.”
“I don’t like red meat.” Then why are we having this fucking conversation!
“Which steak would you choose?”
“We have a nice New York strip and shrimp for our special tonight…”
“The only red meat I eat is bison and elk.” Well, we don’t serve either of those, so pick something off the damned menu.
OH LOOK! I JUST GOT TWO MORE FUCKING TABLES IN THE TIME I’VE WASTED TALKING TO YOU!
“So maybe you would prefer something else?”
“How is the catfish?”
“It is very good. It’s one of my favourite things on the menu.”
“Is it boneless?”
GREAT! THE KITCHEN JUST CALLED ME TO PICK UP FOOD.
“Yes, it is a fillet.”
“But is it boneless?”
“Are you sure?”
“Shouldn’t you go check with the kitchen?” Bitch, you know I’ve worked here for nearly 4 years and you know I know everything on the menu and in the food because you ask me every fucking time you come in here.
AND.. THERE’S ANOTHER TABLE! WTF IS HAPPENING TO ME!
“No, I eat the catfish and there aren’t any bones in it.”
“Well, I need you to really be sure because I can’t have bones.” Really? Really? Cuz I thought fish bones were a staple in a human’s diet.
“I’m certain there are no bones in the catfish! Is that what you’ve decided on or not because I really need to help these other people who are waiting to order,” I screamed at her. I am not lying…10 minutes passed while I was trying to take one person’s order. That’s bullshit.
SHIIIIIT! THE KITCHEN JUST CALLED ME FOR ANOTHER ORDER!
She got her ass in gear, ordered her side dishes, asked for a new cup of coffee, since the one sitting on the table got cold in the time it took her to order, and as I was yanking the menu from her hands and preparing to sprint down the aisle she said, “I like your earrings. Where did you get them?” Are you fucking kidding me?? I have food to take out and I have 7 tables waiting to order, one of which is on the other side of the dining room because the rocket scientist who set up the floor plan thought it would be a good idea to give the person in Section 1 two tables in Section 3, and you want to talk about my fucking earrings?? Are you high? Do you have a death wish?
STICK A FORK IN ME! THERE’S ANOTHER DAMNED TABLE, WHICH BRINGS MY GRAND TOTAL TO 8 NEW, UNGREETED TABLES AND HOLY SHIT, MY SECTION IS FINALLY FULL. IT CAN’T GET ANY WORSE.
(that’s what you think)