Over the summer, I compiled a list of every single thing I hate about some of the people I have to serve. And now the summer's over and I no longer work in a restaurant full-time. Also, I have spent the day grappling with a poem and it's time to take a break from it.
For purposes of my list, let's say "you" is "anyone eating at a chain restaurant."
seventeen things I hate about serving you
1. When you point to the picture and order something else entirely. I know it's difficult to distinguish between the photo of the Southwestern Cobb Chicken Salad and the Club House Grill Sandwich, but try. For starters, one is on bread.
2. Many of you* like to dip your french fries in ranch. Many of you are fond of ordering your food without mentioning this fact, even when I ask if you will need anything else in addition to your order. Then, when I bring you your food, you ask for ranch. Usually immediately. Guess what ranch comes from, douche? That's right. The kitchen. The same room that I just came from. I'm working on installing a ranch tap at every table. In the meantime, feel free to mention that you would like a side of ranch with your fries.
Also, it's ranch dressing. Not sauce.
*primarily you blond, fifteen-year-old girls with really cheap-looking purses.
3. If I ask how you are doing, please don't say "Pepsi." Pepsi is a beverage order, not an emotion or state of being.
4. Three trips to the kitchen is ridiculous. Confer with each other; determine what it is you need from the kitchen, and then send me there. Stop asking for more things once I've reappeared.
If you are the parent of a small child, check their soda levels. Do they feel empty? Or light? I'm happy to get your kid a refill, but I have to get their pop from the same place I get yours.
5. It's 11:58 and I tell you it's last call. Order something fried. Do not order a well-done sirloin and request fresh fruit as a side. The fruit is withered, or all used up. Next time, get to the restaurant earlier than two minutes before it closes.
6. You want milk with your meal. I understand this. Unfortunately, until the kitchen buys me a pager and can send me a "one-minute milk warning," I cannot predict the exact moment your food will arrive. Thus I might arrive with your milk up to three whole minutes after your food is placed on the table. Yelling "MILK" at me will not bring the milk to you with the food. Sorry.
7. My restaurant does not have trays. It's a company policy; we're supposed to help each other and run food using solely our arms and hands. Thus it may take several people to bring out your food. We will usually say something to this effect, such as "The rest is on the way."
Please do not demand the rest of the food at this point, or I will use my food-carrying hands to strangle you.
8. Don't make up orders, and should I decide that I feel like ringing in a three-page order for a wrap consisting of plain unmarinated grilled chicken, fat-free Swiss cheese, diced tomatoes, a specific type of lettuce, and unportioned rice pilaf, thank me. Because the kitchen fucking hates me right now.
9. Economies fluctuate, fishermen have bad shrimping years, and sometimes the price of an entree goes up three dollars. You're going to have to learn to deal with this.
10. Carrying four glasses in my hands requires some balancing, and a good way to destroy my balance is to grab for the glasses as soon as I reach the table.
11. Answer my questions. How's everything tasting? How are you folks doing? Would you like a salad or soup before your meal? If I'm standing in front of you, I'm talking to you. Do me a favor, have some tact, and answer my questions so I can leave you alone.
12. Try - just try - the mashed potatoes before you demand melted butter for them.
13. Similar uniforms, same tacky shit on the walls, down the road from each other. But there is a difference between us and TGIFriday's, and thus you can't order Sesame Jack boneless wings or Vanilla Bean cheesecake.
No, really. I'm sure.
Really sure.
14. A tall glass of Mich Golden, tomato juice, and extra olives is not a drink.
15. It doesn't matter that you come in here all the time. You don't tip, and everybody here knows it, and it makes us hate you.
16. I keep cash in my little book. I don't have a drawer, and I'm not an ATM. Please quit using me as an opportunity to break your 50s and 100s. And yes, it's going to take me a minute to get your change. You can even watch me getting it. I'm standing ten feet away, asking every other server who walks by, and requesting the bartender to break the bill for me.
17. Yes, I can see you flagging me down. I can hear you shouting MISS MISS MISS. But I'm talking to another table right now, and you can wait your turn.
The good thing is that you're proving yourself an idiot to my other table, and they'll probably give me money for taking care of morons like you all day long.
What's funny about this post is that it's not really funny. it pretty much just makes me want to punch things.
ReplyDeleteAHHHHH! NOW I'M ANGRY!!!