Rude.

So we have this one family that comes in... oh, three or four times a week. They are strange.
Son, mom and dad, and mom's dad - who is clearly too old to be in public.
They order at least forty dollars worth of food between them. Sodas, dinners, soups, something to take home, etc. Then, they let Grandpa tip, and he always leaves a five. I appreciate this because I'm sure in his mind, this is a great tip. And hey, five dollars is five dollars.

HOWEVER, mom and dad know that he leaves five dollars. And they know what the bill is, because she pays it. And yesterday, she paid with a hundred dollar bill.

You couldn't have slapped three extra bucks on there and given me twenty percent for being nice to your cranky husband?

Don't be sarcastic. I'm better at it than you.

When I go up to a table to greet them, I rarely ask how they are doing.
I don't care, and you can probably tell I don't care.

I greet them with a "Hi guys! Do you know what you'd like to drink?" or something similar.
I want to get that shit started and get your shit out of my station.

Every now and then I get someone who straight-up is not paying attention, and will say "good, how are you?" That's fine. Ignore what I say, I'll ignore that you wanted wheat toast instead of white.

But even better is when I get a smartass like the one I had a few days ago.
He said "Oh. And we're just fine, how are you today?" knowing full well (should that be hyphenated?) that I did not ask, and I assume trying to put me in my place.

I smiled condescendingly and asked again, "drinks?"

Monday Night Reasons I Like My Job #4

On Mondays, no busboy!
While that means we have to bring out our own stock and bus our own tables (which I don't mind doing, I had to do it at my first job), we get to keep allllllll our sweet sweet cash. And tonight, it was pretty sweet.

Blondie's Sunday Night (Morning) Pet Peeve #5

I know this has been written about many a-time, but I can't resist.
It drives me freaking cuckoo bananas when I have this conversation:
Customer: "What soups do you have today?"
Blondie: "Our soups of the day are chicken noodle and cream of broccoli, but for an extra charge you can have fried onion or chili."
Customer: "Do you have split pea?"

This can be applied to many different scenarios, which all drive me equally batty. Vegetables, breads, etc. Looking dejected and asking for something I didn't list is not going to change my answer. It's not like when you visit your hookers downtown and you have to tell the truth if they ask you if you're a cop (is that even true?).

I would not lie to you, at least not right off the bat. Now that you have asked me a stupid question, I hate you and will subtly exact my revenge.

Avert your eyes!

So, a post from one of my favorite bloggers, purplegirl, got me thinking about something that really gets my goat, and I just couldn't wait til Sunday!

The Starer.
Why, dear god, why? Why do they think it is okay to stare at you, more fascinated by your movements and work than their own delicious meal? Most people have the decency to actually wave me over and ask a legitimate question after staring, and some are smarter and avert their eyes.
But I'm thinking of one couple in particular. They come in maybe once every two or three days, sometimes request specific waitresses (sometimes me! YAY!) and then stare. Unabashedly. If you glance over and smile, they will not return it. They will stare. If you walk over and say "did you need anything?" they will not. They will stare. What kind of eyelid-less freaks raised you?!

And a close cousin - the Glarer. 
These people don't understand your purpose as a server. They will look at you incredulously when you say "Drinks?" "Everything okay?" "You want to box that up?"
as if they are thinking in their lizard brains,
"Why is she asking me this? Shouldn't she just know that I'm still eating? Why do I even come out to eat? Oh, I hate my life!"
Or, they somehow interpret "More iced tea?"
as "Would you like to come out back and slaughter virgins with us after closing?"

Monday Night Reasons I Like My Job #3 (On Tuesday)

I got caught up with school stuff last night and completely forgot.

Anyway, I like my job because they FEED US. At the end of our shift, we can have anything on the menu - except steaks and seafood. And as a diner, we have a pretty extensive menu. We usually end up with sandwiches, burgers, stuff like that - but we can have some of the dinner specials, too. Spaghetti, lasagna, pot roast.

You might not always get what you ask for (one time a coworker asked for a chicken sandwich and got eggs), but hey - it's free!

 It's glorious.

Blondie's Sunday Night Pet Peeve #4

People who don't know what they want (when they are old enough to know better) and I have to face the wrath of the cooks while they continue living their happy little idiotic lives. You know... the ones that order scallops and when you bring it out they say "oooohhhhh........I think I meant shrimp."

Today I had a party of six. Parents, three teenagers, and a chunky little girl who was at least eleven.
She ordered grilled cheese with ham, and said she wanted mozzarella.
Our conversation:
Blondie: You want grilled mozzarella and ham?
Little Girl: No.... like on the side? The, uhm, mozzarella, uhm..
B: Sticks?
LG: Yeah! The sticks!
Her parents: The sandwich comes with fries, are you sure you want both?
LG: No, no, no, I want the mozzarella on the side!
B: Oh, you want the cheese on the side for your fries?
LG: Yes yes yes!

Okay, fine. I put the order in. I go over for refills (LG has sucked down her Pepsi twice by now) and they're waving frantically even though I am clearly WALKING IN THEIR DIRECTION.

Parents: She didn't want mozzarella cheese. She wanted cottage cheese on the side.
B: Uhmmmm... okay.

A girl of her age should know the difference between dipping her fries in mozzarella cheese and eating cottage cheese. Especially AFTER someone else had ordered cottage cheese instead of french fries. So now I have to go in the kitchen and fight with the cooks, because her parents raised her fat ass to be an idiot.

They also felt the need to tell me it was one of the teenagers' birthdays. I literally said "Okay." and walked away. We don't do shit for birthdays and I'm not about to start.

Overheard at the Diner

"Well, as long as you don't mind seeing your sister naked."

I cannot think of any conversation where that sentence would have come about, or any direction it could have taken which wasn't terrifying.

Monday Night Reasons I Like My Job #2

When little old people surprise you with a good tip.
It happened three times tonight.

One weird-ass old lady (I don't care if she gave me a good tip, she was strange as shit) left me five on eight,
One nice elderly man left me five on nine.
And one old couple chatted with me, complimented my milkshake (I love making milkshakes) and left me six on 25.

It just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

Blondie's Sunday Night Pet Peeve #3

Okay, so it's Sunday morning, get over it. This has been bothering me.

So Sunday mornings we have five girls. Two come in earlier and leave at 2. Three come in a little later, and leave at 3, when the night crew comes in. Technically, the night crew (and, well, everybody) is supposed to be there 15 minutes before their scheduled shift. So when I'm supposed to be there at 3, I show up at 2:45 or earlier. I'm the only one. Everyone else shuffles in around five of, five after, whenever.
This led to complaints. The girls who were scheduled to leave at 2 and 3 are pissed because they have to work until... well, 2 and 3. So instead of saying 'Suck it up, whores, that's your schedule,' or actually scolding people for coming in late, now I've been asked to come in an hour earlier, at 2, to insure everyone gets to leave when they want (as opposed to when they are scheduled).
Does that make sense?

Now, this is good and bad. It's good because sometimes I can pull an extra 20 bucks in that hour, because everyone is trying to run out the door as soon as they see me and I can get a bunch of tables.
It's bad, because everyone is running out the door, so I get three tables transferred to me and the three tables that just walked in the door - all at once. It can be frustrating because I just walked in five minutes ago and I barely have my jacket off.
It's also annoying that we have to change the schedule around to make some loudmouth waitresses happy, instead of just asking people to do what they are supposed to do. This happens CONSTANTLY, and it's always me that comes in early or stays late. Apparently I'm the only one who wants to make money, which is good... but exhausting.