Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Okay, one of the stories promised.

It was a Monday.
What we do on Mondays is I come in at two and everyone goes home. I work the floor by myself with one hostess until the other night girls come in at 4. Sometimes it's very boring, sometimes we get a little hit and I can make a lot of money. That day was the latter.
So I'm running around, taking orders, bussing tables, taking food out, making coffee, writing checks, and trying to keep my wits straight. Then I see a horrible regular walk in the door. Let's call him Steve.
He sits at the counter, yells across the diner at you when he needs something, will argue until his face is blue (whether he's right or wrong), and DOES NOT TIP.
I'm as nice as I can be considering I'm slammed and he's an asshole. I get him his coffee and soup, and when he asks how I'm doing, I flatly say "Busy."
I'm done with him. He has his food and his drink and he's not getting anything else from me. I' running around taking care of my TIPPING tables and avoiding eye contact.

I hear him behind me.
"Oh, Steve, would you like another cup of coffee? Sure, Blondie, I'd love some, thanks for asking."
I can't help myself. I turn around and I snap at him.
"Well, STEVE, maybe if you could ask me like a normal customer and possibly say PLEASE, you might get your coffee."
I shocked myself. I immediately walked away to hide my blushing face and pretend I knew exactly what I was doing. Thank god for the hostess that day. She knew this guy was an asshole and whispered to me, "Good girl."

He never got his coffee.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Bad Blondie, bad!

I am not posting as I should be. I am a busy blondie beaver with school, work, and trying to end the summer as awesomely as possible.

But for now, a mispronunciation that I had to walk away from before I got the giggles:
"Hi guys! Your server will be right with you. Can I grab you a drink?"
"She'll have iced tea and I'll have a Sahara Mist."

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Well, y'all asked for it.

I'm going to start with the cook. I have a lot a lot to write about in the next few days, so I'll try to make a post every day until I get it all out. You guys will be sick of me.

So this cook started maybe two, three months ago. He would get angry at us when he didn't know the menu or was left alone, which was understandable at first.
But now, any time he is alone (between 2-3pm when the other cook on duty takes a break and after 8pm when he is closing) every order is a fiasco. He curses in Turkish. He curses in English. He curses in Turklish. You have to read your order to him three times, and it's usually still wrong.
"I need a chicken a la king." (Which comes over rice)
"Over nothing?"
"No, over rice."
"Over mashed potatoes?"
"NO, it comes over RICE."
I get it over nothing. And I get cursed at when I tell him it's wrong.
Sometimes, if we're not busy and I don't feel like dealing with him, I go behind the line and cook the food myself.

If you hate your job as a cook, there's four doors. Use one and go somewhere else.

He despises modifications. His most famous quote is, "Everybody special, everybody order something different."
Uhm, YEAH. That's why we hand out those little booklets we call MENUS when we seat people.

Now, keep in mind I started at the diner as a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, innocent little 18-year-old. I've since gone to university and worked there for four years, so I'm a little wiser and a little more cynical, but they all still think of me as "their daughter," "little girl," etc.
The first time I got so fed up with this cook and used the f-word, it was silent in the kitchen. Everyone came out to apologize to me, it was adorable.
Since then, every night I work with him, one of these phrases leaves my mouth:
"Do me a favor on that order. Shut the fuck up and cook it."
"Nobody else is bitching about their job, we're just as hot and tired as you are. Shut your fucking mouth and cook."
And other colorful phrases. When the second cook comes back from break, depending on how pissed I am at that point, they get a
"Get the fuck back there and help him." (I always feel terrible and apologize after that one)

Everyone else has the same problems with this cook. Why is he still there?!

Monday, August 15, 2011

Okay, I don't know what you guys did...

or what entities you prayed to, but I made EXACTLY one hundred dollars tonight!
I feel so warm and fuzzy.

I'll have a post about one of the previously mentioned three tomorrow for you, and as a special "thank you" for your well-wishing, how I got smart with a dickworm "regular" today, and got stiffed twice.

I need a hundred dollar night.

Everyone keep Blondie in your thoughts and prayers today - I've got a credit card bill due and a birthday to fund for Mr. Blonde (my boyfriend, not Michael Madsen. Although it would be nice if those two were synonymous).
I've actually been doing fairly well lately, due to some pretty good tippers and co-workers who don't want to pick up.

But anyway, it has been drama.com/diner lately. A drunk dishwasher who walked out (and was back the next night, of course), a cook who's really starting to see my bad side, and waitresses, waitresses, waitresses.

More on that later, right now I've got to put on 'Eye of the Tiger' and run up and down some stairs. Gotta get my game face on.

Post in the comments what you'd most like to hear about:
a) drunk dishwasher
b) me telling off the cook
or c) random waitress drama.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Odd makeup choices.

I've noticed a few girls who I work with have a habit of only wearing eyeliner on the lower lash line. It makes their eyes look... heavy, I think is the word I'm looking for.
Does no one read Cosmo anymore?

Friday, August 12, 2011


I have been up since 5 and I have work at 9.
For some reason, I'm just absolutely DREADING these exchanges:

"Something to drink?"
"A shot and a beer!"
We don't serve alcohol at my restaurant.
"Sorry, sir, I drank the last of it when I saw you coming in and knew it was my turn."

"How would you like that burger cooked?"
"Well, on the grill, of course!"
"Oh, I was thinking if I stared at it and hoped long enough, it would come out medium-well."

"Can I get you anything else today?"
"A stack of fifties!" "A few hundreds!" "Someone to pay the bill!" etc, etc.
"If I had any of those things, do you think I'd be serving y'all's asses right now?"

"Here's your check whenever you're ready."
"Oh, we didn't want that!" "It's not on you today?" "Oh, I guess I'll have to head in the back to wash dishes!"
"I don't give a damn who pays it. Just pay it, tip me, and get the fuck out of my station."

"Do you know what you'd like to have?"
"Food! HAHAHAH."
"In that case, I'll give you an extra helping of my earwax. I mean... that's food, right?"

I mean, if you say the SAME things EVERY time you go into ANY restaurant, can you really and truly think you're being original?

The only original (but still not amusing) thing I've heard recently was:
"Do you guys need a minute?"
"Why, are you giving them away?"

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Please, God, just take this.

How can people be so oblivious to their surroundings and the people around them?
I had an 8-top a few days ago, and I will not hesitate to say they were straight-up white trash. I don't feel bad profiling them because I've had them before, and they're just assholes. Dirty clothes, no teeth, three of them cross-eyed, dollar per person if you're lucky. Inbreeding at its finest.

But anyway, they wanted three separate checks. Five on one, one single guy on one, and one couple I didn't recognize as being with them before on the last. This last couple was probably the only reason I managed 13% on the table, because they left 18% on their tab.

But anyway, after listening to them all talk over each other and me while trying to take their orders for "biscetti" and "deep-fried french fries" (I am not lying), I finally got their courses started. The one guy on his own tab was in the middle of the side of the table I could not reach. He refused to take any plates from me or hand any over so I could clear them. I was literally bent at the waist, chest rubbing against the guy across from him, pleading in my eyes, while he just stared at me and let me almost lose three plates in the process.

What the hell?

Monday, August 8, 2011

Something that made me giggle today.

When I asked a young man whether he wanted soup or salad, he said, "I'll have the soup, with bleu cheese."

Monday, August 1, 2011


Last night, a coworker was sat with a table of two adults, two children. Unremarkable family, maybe a touch on the ghetto side, but nothing to be concerned about. The only comment their server made was that they were taking a hell of a long time to order.

They were sat in the back so I think I only happened to walk past their table once, so I basically forgot about them until they were ready to cash out. I do register if the host is not around, so I took their money. The bill was 48.46, and he gave me 60.
He says, "Just give me ten back, the rest will be for the tip."
I literally paused in my count-back. $1.54? I tried not to let him notice I was confused, and hoped against all hope there was more money on the table. As soon as they were out the door, I ran back to where the busser was clearing it. I checked the table, I checked the floor, I checked the bus pan. Nothing. They left him a 3% tip and thought that was okay.

They weren't foreign, so they should have known our tipping customs.
They seemed happy when they left, and their server said they had no complaints.
He told me to give him ten back, and I purposely counted the whole thing to show him how much of a "tip" he was leaving, so it wasn't a mathematical error.
So they really just... screwed him. For no good reason.

C came back for his tip as I was finishing my once-over to look for it. All I could say was,
"It's up by the register. I'm sorry, buddy."