What day is it?

I've been picking up extra shifts and covering for people and going in early and working late and I don't even know what the date is anymore. And the customers are getting weirder and weirder.

• "Can we order anything on the menu or is it just this page?"
  Why the fuck would I give you a whole six page menu if you could only order 10 things?
• "How are your tomatoes?"
  Sandwich tomatoes? Salad tomatoes? What are you even asking me?
• "I gave up drinking for Lent."
  Seriously. This guy would not even take a glass of water and it was about a month after Easter.
• "What kind of spaghetti do you have?"
  Uh, regular kind? Turned out she meant 'pasta' and was just using 'spaghetti' as a blanket term.
• The lady who asked me questions about four different things on the menu and then said "Oh, I'll just have the other one." "Which one?" "The other one." "Which other one?" "The other one!"
  

As I've said before, all you can do is break into giggles at this point.

Overheard at the Diner

"I went to see my boy Hobo Jack and he hooked me up."

HA!

I feel insulted.

This lady the other day boned me on multiple levels.

She asked me about my natural hair color, which is fine, I get it all the time.
Then she asks me how long I've worked there, etc.


Then she says "Oh, so are you doing anything else with your life?"
A lot of people know I also go to school, they ask me how it's going and such, but no one has ever straight up talked to me like I was a failure for being a server.
So what if I wasn't going to school? I have a job that pays the bills and for the most part I enjoy. There is nothing wrong with that and I was pretty offended.

Then it got weirder. She said "Oh, that's good. You know, you're a very pretty girl."
What the shit? Should I have said "No, I'm just waitressing until some Tiger Woods type comes and scoops up my sorry ass to be his trophy wife. Or mistress. I plan on getting by on my looks, so thanks for reinforcing my self esteem"?

And the 15% tip really helped too. Thanks, dickworm.

Monday Night Reasons I Like My Job #7

On the right day! I'm so proud of myself.

On Mondays, we have a great crew. Me, two other girls about my age, and an awesome hostess.
We laugh, we tell dirty jokes, we gossip, etc.

Even when it's slow (as in, we had one table that left at 7 and didn't see another one until 7:30), we can sit around and talk about "I Survived" and other crap shows. I made barely any money, but still had a great time.

I'm dumb.

I guess all my years of schooling did not teach me how to read a calendar, and I did a Sunday Night Pet Peeve on Saturday. So, to honor this blonde moment, I'll write about another one I had a few months ago.

During the winter, we serve homemade chili. They make it in massive quantities and reheat as needed.
I waited on a nice couple who had never been in the diner before. I love doing this, because it gives me an opportunity to show my knowledge of the menu and make sure they have a good experience. It makes me super happy when people enjoy their first time and say they'll definitely be back.
So, anyway, this guy is asking about the chili and decides to try a bowl. We didn't have any out, so the cook grabs some while I go back out to get the rest of their order.
As I'm sure it is in most kitchens, the soups and such are sitting underneath where we pick up so the girls can grab it themselves. The chili was out, so I get a bowl and take it out. A few seconds later, there's another bowl on the line one of the cooks put out for me to pick up.
I say, "Don't worry, I already got it."

The rest of the meal is uneventful, they enjoy everything and ask for the check. They man says, "I wanted to ask you something. Is your chili always served cold?"
I respond, "Uhm.... no... was yours?" He had eaten all of it.
"Yeah, I mean it was still delicious, I had just never eaten it chilled like that and I thought that's the way you guys did it, like gumbo!"

The cook had heated up a bowl for me and put the rest into the steam table. I took cold chili and didn't realize it. Thank god the guy still liked it.

Blondie's Sunday Night Pet Peeve #9

How can I wait on two tables at the same time, give the same service, and receive the same tip on two different bills?

A single man left me 2 on 9, while the couple right behind him left me 2 on 20. The fuck.

Only one thing pissed me off today.

so that's cool.

so, we recently got new menus. new specials and a price raise. people still come in and ask for a few of the old specials, and usually we'll still make them.
A couple comes in and the lady is asking after.. we'll call it the Jersey Burger. I explained we got new menus, but if she remembered what was on it, we could either find something similar or just go ahead and make it. She didn't remember and had me ask around. "Manager, do you remember what was on the Jersey Burger?" "Co-workers, do you remember what was on the Jersey Burger?" Finally, the cooks remembered, and I reported back.
"It has cheddar cheese, fried onions, and bacon."
"Oh, okay," she says. "We need another minute."

This was slightly aggravating. You got a boner for this burger and made me find out what was on it, and now you don't want it?
So, they order. A lot of food. Soups, two appetizers, and two burgers. She gets the Jersey Burger.
I bring out the soups. She makes me take her coffee back because the "saucer was dirty." It was a drip of coffee from the pour. Okay.
I bring out the apps. They seem happy so far.
I bring out the burgers. She looks at it like I served her a dead rat on a bun. With a side of fries.
"I don't like cheddar cheese. I wanted provolone."
UHM. I respond, "I told you it was cheddar... should I take it back?"
"Yeah, I hate cheddar. I want provolone."

There are so many things wrong with this. She purports that she used to get this all the time, but she doesn't like the cheddar cheese that came on it? I remind her what was on it, cheddar cheese, and she orders it anyway? What WORLD is she living in??

Luckily, the cheese was on the on the bun, not the burger - we could just switch out the bun for one with provolone on it and all was well. They left me 20% and I was pleased.

Other than that slight snag, which mostly baffled me rather than upset me, today's shift was quite nice. A little slow, but I still made my usual amount for a Friday day shift.

We got another new cook.

This one can't read. Or listen. I will give several instances.

We still use handwritten checks, no computers. We use a carbon sheet, so the top check is for us/the guest, and the bottom (the dupe) is for the kitchen.
We give the kitchen the dupe and usually holler out what we need.
For example, we may write "chix chs stk fr on" and holler out "chicken cheesesteak with fried onions" when we put in the order. Simple stuff.

Okay, so let's talk new cook.

• I put in an order for a chef salad no carrots and a chicken caesar. I read it to him. I receive a chef salad with carrots and a greek salad.
  
• Chicken breast with fried onion and mushrooms, I get chicken breast with a giant side of fried peppers.
  
• Two cheese omelettes, one homefry/one french fry and two pork roll cheese sandwiches, one french fry/one nothing. I read it. He repeats it back to me wrong. I read it again. He asks me, and I read it again. When the food is almost ready, he asks me again and I tell him again. I get two omelettes with french fries and two sandwiches with homefries. Exhausting.
  
• Every time we put in an order for the Athenian Meatball special, we either get veal or spaghetti.
  
• My personal favorite: M puts in an order for a caesar salad, dry. The customer wanted a different dressing. When the salad was ready, this is what happened.
  New Cook: "You want caesar dressing?"
  M:"No, I got the dressing."
  NC proceeds to slather the caesar dressing all over the salad.
  M: "What the hell are you doing?!"
  NC: "Honey, I ask you if you want dressing!"
  M: "AND I SAID NO!"
  I can't stop laughing at that one.
  

The list goes on and on.

Monday Night Reasons I Like My Job #6

They like me, they really like me!
I can be a bit of a complete narcissist at times, and I love attention.
My nether regions become damp with joy when I have new views on my blog, even more so when I get comments. I shudder with happiness when I get a request at the diner. It's been happening more and more lately, either because I'm officially one of the senior members of the staff or because of my winning personality. I assume it's the latter, because I am freaking awesome most of the time.

I especially love it when I'm not expecting it. A few older couples have seen me when they came in and said "Oh, blondie's here! Where's your station, honey?" It's usually the ladies, for some reason. Maybe men feel weird about asking the youngest waitress in the joint to wait on them.

Blondie's Sunday Night Pet Peeve #8

We have a serious language barrier at work.

Our chef is Greek. Or possibly Spanish, I'm not sure.
Our cooks and busboys are Turkish.
Our dishwashers are Mexican.
Our waitresses are American.

This is fine. Most times I can speak slowly, with lots of hand motions and get my point across. It's not offensive, I promise. Or maybe it is, I don't care.
What bothers me is our one busboy does not even try to make us understand! I will ask him for something and he will go off on a Turkish rant. Or he'll just see me and go off on a Turkish rant. And then laugh uproariously. He doesn't point at anything, speak slowly, give examples, draw pictures, send smoke signals, anything. He just doesn't care if I understand him or not, and he's probably cursing my family. I find that frustrating. And rude.
Sometimes the others will go off on rants in their own languages as well, but making it obvious they are talking about us. Also frustrating and rude.

My motto at work is usually "I don't understand what you're saying, so I'm going to go ahead and ignore you."

Wrangle your children!

Seriously, muzzle and leash them if you have to, 'cause they're pissing me off.

Today, we had a child who apparently wanted dessert. I know this not because I am a mind reader (seriously, I'm not, so when your order is wrong because you didn't tell me you hate tomatoes you can suck one), but because his parents let him scream "I WANT MY DESSERT I WANT MY DESSERT" the entirety of the meal. If I were his parents, I would have been forced to say, "If you can't shut the hell up and ask nicely, you're not getting anything." And if he did not shut the hell up, his happy ass would be on the car, on the way home, sans dessert.

Another little snot-nose punk I have a history with. I will preface this by saying a few people call me "blondie" at work. I will respond to it if it is used as an affectionate nickname, I will not of their eyes are telling me they mean it as "dumb blonde" or "I do not care to learn your name, simple server, now bring me my french fries." And I've been a blonde all my life, I know the difference.
Now this kid's white-trash dad? uncle? inbred cousin? took to calling me 'blondie' in the latter form. I told him semi-politely (but with an undertone of "I will follow you home and put sugar in your gas tank, you wang banger"), what my real name was. But the little brat will still holler "HEY, BLONDIE!" across the restaurant at me when he needs something. AKA, every thirty seconds. His family giggles like it's freaking adorable and lets him be a self-entitled asshole. That, among other reasons, is why they are one of only two or three tables I refuse to wait on.


Seriously, parents. I'm all for bringing your kid out and socializing him/her or whatever, but if they act up, they won't learn if you don't correct them.

No more signage.

The wall where the time clock is at work is covered in notes. Notes about schedules, notes about dinner, rules and regulations about ev. ery. thing. I should take a picture.

The last one says "Anyone who overfills the bus pan and breaks a dish will have the cost deducted from their pay."
I have several questions about this:
Was it really that chronic of a problem? I don't think we had a lot of broken dishes. If a certain person was responsible for a lot of them, it should be brought of with that person.
Can they do this legally? Morally? I don't think it's right. It's a restaurant. Dishes break. Accidents happen.

Thoughts? Is there a policy like this at your place of work?

If you don't laugh, you'll cry.

It's always been one of my favorite sayings, but serving has truly given new meaning to it.

Last night, I was definitely the asshole. I had a family where the parents were just... rude.
The hostess told me last time the mother had said "Go ahead and give me three forks now, cause the baby will throw them everywhere." Screw that, don't give the child the damn forks! It looked like a bomb had hit when they left - crayons, silverware, placemats.. all on the floor.
She gave the entire family's order rapid-fire while looking at me like she wanted to be anywhere else, and the dad was guzzling iced teas like it was breastmilk of the gods. Okay, fine.
Then I had a couple who hollered "Miss!" every time I was in their line of view - more rolls, more soda, he doesn't like his meal, etc. I can deal with that.
Then I had the OLDEST couple ever, with their son who had to ask them three times what they wanted. What sides. What soup. And then they each asked me "what do you have?" It took me ten minutes to get an order out of them. After I told them three times we don't serve alcohol. I was patient and answered them over and over again with a smile. I don't think any of them knew where they were.

After I got rid of them, I rounded the corner and saw our least-favorite (or one of) counter regulars at the counter. Our hostess just looked at me and we both started cracking up as I got his water with extra lemon. I said, "At this point, it's just hilarious. "

I have nothing to complain about.

Today was a great day.

First of all, Happy Mother's Day to all of you mommies out there.

Second of all, I don't know what someone slipped into my morning coffee but I was a ray of freaking sunshine tonight at work. I kept smiling even when I got 6 dollars on a fifty dollar check from a man who couldn't complain enough. I didn't give a smart-ass response to anyone who said "okay" to "that comes with your choice of a potato and vegetable." I danced my way through two 5-tops, two 10-tops, and a 15.

I'm sure the nice tips helped, but I was just in a good damn mood.

Why does this keep happening to me?!

Why do fat, sweaty, old men think they can get away with pervy comments? And why are they sweaty, anyway? They should get that checked out while they're visiting the doctor after I cause their genitals serious harm.

I ask a single man what he wants to drink:
"Oh, you know, I'll have a coffee, a water, and a dance from you."
I told him, "You can have the coffee and water, but I'm going to ignore the last one if you still want service."

I do not go to work to be hit on, even by the young or attractive ones. I just want to serve you, collect your money, and have you leave. You are not being cute or funny. You are being disrespectful and I will not have that shit in my station.

I liked today.

The opener felt sick and left around noon. So, I got station one! I rarely do because it's reserved for the openers and closers.
This means I got the counter and five booths, which is a lot of money potential! And in this case, we were busy enough that I never stopped moving, but never got in the weeds. And came home with some cash in my pocket.

But it wouldn't be a post worth reading without some bitching, right?

As a diner, we do a lot of breakfast. It drives me bananas when someone asks for "sausage and eggs" or "pork roll and eggs" and just closes their menu. Tell me how you want your eggs, bitch, or you won't like what I choose.
Same goes for "soup or salad?" and I just get "salad." what kind of salad? what kind of dressing? come on guys, meet me halfway.

Do I need to see a therapist?

I've found over the years that I am completely at home calling men "sir."
"What would you like to drink, sir?"
"Have you decided, sir?"
"Sir, do you think my tip will be more than ten percent or should I just give up now?"

However, I find myself very uncomfortable calling women "ma'am" or "madam" or even "miss." Can't do it.
"And are.... you.... ready?"

Am I putting feminism back ten years every time I do this? Am I the only one? Should I examine my relationship with my parents?

Blondie's Sunday Night Pet Peeve #7

Yes, I know it's Monday morning. So sue me.

This post is about the new cook, again. He pisses me off.

I hate when people try to tell me how to do my job like I haven't been waitressing for six years, at this restaurant for four.

I have a church group of 10-20 maybe every other Sunday. They are fairly simple and I have gotten serving them down to an art. Preparing the bread baskets, salads, and drinks as I see them come in to make my life easier. They usually order dinners and tip 30%, so I can make from 20-40 dollars for an hour's worth of pretty easy work.

Last night, I get their orders and get their food out. One of the kids says "Oh, I didn't want a chicken cheesesteak, I wanted a regular cheesesteak." An adult who only ordered a cup of soup decides to eat the chicken cheesesteak and I go to put an order in for a regular cheesesteak.
New cook says to me, "But you already took their food out."

gee, REALLY? I totally forgot that I loaded up three trays and carried them out to a table five minutes ago. Thank you, twat, for reminding me.

"I know. They want a cheesesteak. Are you going to make it or am I going to have to come back there and do it myself?"

"Well... you have to charge for it."

I FUCKING KNOW WHAT I'M DOING, ASSHOLE.

It was like this all night. "Can I have a side of this?" "Are you going to charge for it?"
No, new cook, I wanted to give stuff away for free in order to eventually run this business into the ground. I don't need this job, I just like to be here five days a week for shits and giggles.