you use them when you want to switch lanes and when you’re turning. most people think they’re there for decoration…

they’re not.

- Triple sat, constantly. Enjoy the money. Don’t enjoy the agony. Please hostess, understand this: You rotate the servers when you seat them. That doesn’t mean you fill up my section, then move on to the next waitress and fill her up too, etc, etc. No honey, you seat one server, move onto the next, and develop a pattern. Your way is cute though.

-Had more than four customers ask me to bring their drinks when the food comes out. I absolutely hate this above all other requests.  If you bring the drink right before their food comes out, they complain they wanted it WHEN the food comes out. If you bring the drink right after the food comes out, they complain they wanted it WHEN the food comes out. Where I work, we don’t have food trays; I can’t throw all the plates and cups on a tray, and carry it over. Listen, unless you’re going to give me an extra set of arms, you will not be getting your drink at the EXACT moment your food comes out. Ever. You are a party of four, I’m not carrying out all of your food and balancing a drink tray on my head. There isn’t a soda machine right beside the expo line in the window, either. It’s a nuisance, you are being a nuisance.  In fact, even if I was able to time it perfectly, I wouldn’t, because such a request is ludicrous.

- Had someone complain their soup was cold. Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s because you waited for your entree to come out, ate that, picked at your husband’s fries, and then decided to eat your soup. That may have something to do with it! But my District Manager is here today, so I’ll give you that goddamn soup with a smile. (It’s normally served with a sarcastic remark, just so you’re aware.)

-Had a table whose check amounted to 42.28 tip me the 72 cents they made me make for them. You couldn’t have just said “keep the change?” so I could despise you right then and there? You actually made me get my hopes up only to give me back the change it took me a good two minutes to fish out of the bottom of my server bank? Thanks. You’re grand.

- An angry** old lady was mad I checked on her after two minutes of her receiving her meal. She said I shouldn’t check on her until she was ready for dessert. Oh right, I forgot about the meters placed on every table that tell me when someone’s ready for dessert. Bitch, you would’ve complained if I didn’t check on you either. Shut the hell up. I dropped her check a minute later, taking away her option of dessert. She paid, tipped me nothing. I didn’t care, I wasn’t expecting anything, I made my point. (Might I add she walked over to our take-away window later, hoping to get served a dessert to go. Too bad my manager had just cut the person who worked in that department. Haha, she never got a dessert)

** That doesn’t begin to explain the kind of aura this woman had. She was a miserable person. So miserable and full of hatred.

- “Waters all around!” was a popular phrase. The trend extended to the point where only the person who requested the waters, was the one to finish his glass. Every other one remained untouched. Thanks for wasting my time, ass hat.

-One table split the check seven ways. There were only four people at the table. I don’t even know. I just don’t.

if you pick up a product, put it back where you got it. you’re baffling me. consider me baffled.

hmm, i wonder how many keys/pens/children these customers lose a week.

What is it about Sundays that brings out the neediest people? Luckily for me, I have had the past four sundays off, so I don’t have to deal with high maintenance, pain in the asses for one day. In yet, every week, I find myself sitting in Starbucks observing the people who stop in. I can’t just stay on my laptop and look away as this people request ridiculous drinks to these poor baristas.

Let me start by saying I hate people, alot. Ok?

Secondly, if you’re ordering in line, please be aware of the other people in front of and behind you. You’re not the only person in the store. Also, in case you’re wondering, you’re not the only person in the world. So if someone else is telling the cashier their order, stand back and shut the hell up. Do not announce your order unless you’re acknowledged. Not only do you look obnoxious, but no one is listening, and I promise you, they’ll make you repeat it. (And I’m sure you’ll be annoyed that you had to say it twice; cause it’s so hard to open that hole in your face and mutter out a few words when you’re actually supposed to, right?)

Side note: There is no fucking thing as low fat eggnog. And if there is, it’s the anti-christ. Eggnog is supposed to be a fat and sugary liquid jesus. All of you skinny, needy bitches that require low fat this and low fat that, should just go away. (I understand they can mix eggnogg with skim milk, but listen, it’s still fatty as shit. Thats like mixing sugar-free syrup into maple syrup, spreading it on your pancakes, and expecting that you’re eating a sugar-free meal.) Requesting low-fat eggnog means you worship Satan. It does. Ask your local priest, rabbi, or high priestess if you doubt me.

Anyway, if you wanted whip on your latte, you should probably tell them. If you wanted no foam, you probably should have told them. And lastly, if you wanted an iced drink, you probably should have…yup, you guessed it…told them.

Why do you need your drink “upside down” versus the normal way? Why do you need your shot timed out for three seconds sooner than the normal timing? Why do you think they can pump half-a-pump of any of the syrups? Will the bubble lid make your drink taste better than the flat lid? Why are you on your phone when you’re ordering?

And lastly, WHY ARE SO MANY OF YOU GETTING A FRAPPUCCINO IN THE LAST WEEK OF NOVEMBER?! WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!

Go home. You’re bothering me and I’m not even on the other side of the counter.

That is all.

I always wonder why customers feel so entitled. Like, who are we to blame for this ideology? Has the media given a false sense of hierarchy to patrons? Why do they believe they are so goddamn important?  Now, granted, you are going out to be served and taken care of. A customer should never have to lift their finger or have to worry about their meal. That is my job; that is why you’re going out to eat. I will take care of you to the best of my being, I promise. However, there are people who have such outlandish requests that even I - the master of customer satisfaction - couldn’t accommodate them.

To start off, lets go to the people who inform me that the music is too loud. Too loud? What? You just came into my restaurant. Who are you to tell me what is too loud? No other tables are complaining, that’s strange, wouldn’t everyone be complaining if it was too loud? Oh, that’s right, you’re just a bitter bitch who always has to cook for an unappreciative husband and decided to take it out on me on your day off. Feels good, right? Yeah, let it out! But now that you’re done, I regret to inform you that the music is staying at the same volume. If it’s quiet enough for me to hear you complain, than it isn’t hardly loud enough.

Secondly, let me address the temperature issue. You’ve noticed that restaurants are chilly, right? Well, if you’ve noticed that, chances are, you should prepare yourself for that before walking in. Maybe pack a light sweater, wear pants; fuck, i don’t know, suck it up? How is it that people in their forties, people who have been dining for at least twenty years, act surprised when a restaurant has a slight chill to it?

My favorite thing is when I walk up to a table, sweat on my brow from running around, and they have the nerve to look up at me and ask me to eliminate the air conditioner. Dude, I’m dripping as it is…can you imagine what I’d look like if it got hotter in here? I just make up an excuse, such as “its on a timer, not even the managers can override it” or “oh, that’s just the fan. it’s the law to have ventilation going 24/7 in a restaurant as a safety precaution” and the likes. Sometimes, I’ll just make them feel important and say “I reported it to a manager and they’ll lower it immediately.” It works every time.

Do you think we ever actually turn it off? Hell no. If we turned it off the cooks in the back wouldn’t have to use salt on any of the entrees; the servers would personally drip salt onto each dish as they delivered them. So what would you rather deal with, annoying customer: some goosebumps because your dumbass came dressed in a tank and some shorts…or my hard work and dedication dripping zest and flavor onto your entree? It’s your choice really.

At the most recent restaurant I worked at, every Saturday morning we’d have this old, hateful, negative woman come in. She’s the type who would ignore the hostess completely, choose her own seat, and the second the server would come over, she’d bitch. Half the time I didn’t even listen - I was too distracted by the evident negative effects cigarettes had on her voice. But truthfully I didn’t have to listen to her to know what she was complaining about; after serving her once, you know what she’s going to say…in the same creepy, robotic-like order. “AGH, can you turn off that music, its so very distracting!! And tell that woman - ” (Oh you mean the hostess you just disregarded?) ” - to turn down the AC. It’s way too cold in here. Can’t even feel my own hands.” Bitch it’s 90 degrees outside, if you can’t feel your hands, you need to visit a vascular surgeon and find out what circulatory disease you have, not complain to me. The first ten times she said this to me, I just told her we’d take care of it. But one morning, one morning where I had worked late the night before and had a sleepless night, I had enough.

“AGH, can you turn off that music, its so -“

So very distracting, yes ma’am I know. I’ve heard you say it numerous times now for months. Though, I’m not sure what you’re distracted from. Do your ears need to be unoccupied so that your taste buds may enjoy the food you’re going to be served? Do you like to hear yourself chew? Or maybe you enjoy the sound of the fork scraping along the plate? I just don’t know how it’s a distraction.

“I just don’t like it and I’m a customer. A customer is always -“

Always right, ma’am. That’s true. A customer is always right, except when they’re wrong. You see, you’re not the only one in the building. There’s over thirty other customers in here. If you notice, in this case, you’re actually only 1/30 right. So the music will stay as is. And before you complain about the temperature, I advise you to bring a small sweater the next time you visit us. We will not be turning it down for you, because again, you’re outnumbered. May I suggest you drink a coffee or hot tea rather than an ice water to make your hands warmer? I can even bring you  a mug of hot water, so that you may hold onto it as you wait for your meal, and still deliver over your ice water, if you’d like. That way your hands can be warmed up without the other customers becoming uncomfortable. Okay?

The woman was flabbergasted, and unsure on how she should respond. She did, however, take me up on my last offer to get a hot and an ice water.

She never again asked me to turn down the music or adjust the temperature, and the next time she came in, she had a denim jacket thrown over her shoulders. She didn’t complain to my managers about what I said, partially because I ended my statements on a sweeter note. You can’t exactly yell at someone who puts you back in your place and then offers to accommodate you in a way that doesn’t effect other patrons.

Case in point, don’t go into a restaurant and try and alter their atmosphere. You won’t be well-liked or accommodated, just lied to. After all, you can’t just walk into your friends house and tell them to turn down their kitchen radio and shut off their A/C because it’ll make you feel better.  You’d end up being the person they “forget” to mail the invitations to. Aww, you wouldn’t want to be that loser, would you? ;)

When at a Diner:

• DON’T complain the coffee doesn’t taste fresh. Why? Well, first off, you’re at a diner; the price of that coffee equals the quality of that coffee. And secondly, its a diner! Coffee is the most commonly ordered drink! Of course it’s fresh! Every hour a server makes at least two pots (36 cups per pot) of coffee. Not because they’re keeping track, but because they literally run out all the time.
• DON’T be anything but specific. You can’t sit there and say “I’ll have eggs and bacon.” Okay, that’s fucking great… What kind of toast? How many eggs? Oh, and I don’t know, just going out on a limb here, but how do you want those goddamn eggs cooked?
• DON’T interrupt your server when they are introducing themselves. You should be glad to have a server who is kind of enough to introduce themselves, rather than just asking what you want. Shouting your order at them in the middle of them saying hello is just plain rude.
• DON’T be upset when we don’t have lime for your drink, especially when there is no bar in the building.
• DON’T complain your latte or cappuccino doesn’t taste like Starbucks. It isn’t supposed to. It isn’t a Starbucks.
• DON’T get worked up if your egg order takes longer than five minutes, when the other person in your party ordered a well done steak. Obviously, we’re not going to deliver them out separately, ass hat.

When at a Subway Sandwich Shop:

• DON’T assume the sandwich artist knows what kind of bread you want. We don’t. We’ll just give you white or wheat, since the other breads are more of a bitch to make.
• DON’T start telling us the vegetables before we slide the sub over to that section of the display. If we’re still putting the meat on your sub, we aren’t going to be able to remember every vegetable you just listed.
• DO  the following when ordering more than one sub: “I’m going to get four subs: two footlongs on wheat, one footlong on honey oat, and a six inch on white.” Doing it this way is easier on everyone.
• DON’T be upset when we ask if you’d like chips and a drink. We’re supposed to ask, we’re just doing our jobs. Does it really bother you that fucking much that we’re just trying to do a good job at work? Is it really just that hard to say “No thanks”? Did our simple question ruin your whole day? Aww.

When at a Starbucks:

• DON’T order your drink backwards. Saying things like “Tea Lemonade with sweetener, venti, green tea” or “Caramel Macchiato with slim milk, grande, extra caramel, iced” can make it really fucking confusing. If you don’t know how to order, let me help you!

1. Start off with your temperature: Iced or Hot.
2. Then say what size you’d like: Tall (Sm), Grande (Med), Venti (Lg); Short (X-sm) or Trenta (X-lg)
3. Proceed with specifications such as Skinny, Nonfat, Unsweetened, Sweetened, Soy.
4. Add in your modifiers such as Extra Caramel, Two pumps of Raspberry, One shot of Espresso.
5. Finish it up by saying the drink name. 
   
   So, for example, I used to get this drink: Iced Venti, No Water, One Pump Peppermint, Green Tea. Guess what? The baristas never wanted to kick my ass and my drink was always made the way I wanted it.

• DON’T get worked up and make it harder than it seems. It’s really not that hard. It’s a fucking Coffee House. If you admit it’s your first time, they’ll be extremely nice helping you out. Which brings me to my next point…
• DON’T hold up a line because you’ve never been to a Starbucks before. If you’re aware of the fact that you’re new, step aside and figure out your drink first.
• DON’T get loud because you “Don’t know what sizes there are.” Dude, relax. It’s America, there’s three generic sizes, and guess what, Starbucks has them! Small, Medium, and Large. It’s seriously an easy concept. 
• DON’T ask them if they have any more of specific pastry in the back. No, why would they be in the back and not in the front if they had them for sale? That’s a stupid question. You’re stupid.
• DON’T ask what something is if it’s obvious. Asking what a Shaken Iced Tea is, or what’s the difference between Iced Coffee and Hot Coffee, just proves you lack common sense. Shaken Iced Tea, is Iced Tea that is Shaken. The difference between Iced Coffee and Hot Coffee is that one is Iced and one is Hot.
• DON’T order a Vivanno in large or small. They come in one size. Enjoy it. It’s great.
• There would be way too many bullets if I spoke about Frappuccinos, so let me just say this: They are not good for you. You should feel really guilty even if you order them with a light base. You are a sinner if you drink one. SIN.

The end.

In my opinion, servers in the United States should be more like the servers in Italy or France. U.S. servers are treated like bitches, having to deal with ludicrous comments and disrespectful gestures on a daily basis, and are not allowed to retaliate. In Italy, it is quite the opposite; The server is in control of you to a certain degree. If you request coffee before your pasta dish, they’ll refuse you the drink until after you have finished your meal. They know that coffee tarnishes your taste buds and alters the flavor of the pasta you are going to receive. If you complain that something tastes different then how you expected, they’ll tell you it isn’t their fault you wanted to try something new; although they’ll offer you something else to eat, you’ll still be billed for the dish you originally ordered. The servers are confident and knowledgable; they want you to enjoy your experience, but they won’t sacrifice the quality of the establishment or their pride for your demands.

That’s the kind of attitude I like. That’s how I act…to a certain degree, anyway. I would never refuse someone coffee before their entree, that I find ridiculous, but I do advise what goes best with what. When someone complains about not liking an entree because it wasn’t what they expected - in yet they were clearly trying the dish for the first time - I refuse to comp* it off a bill. Why should my restaurant have to pay for you ordering something you’ve never heard of before, and not enjoying it’s taste?  Granted, if you order Chicken Marsala and it tastes like Chicken Francaise, I clearly won’t charge you. However, if it looks like Marsala and tastes like Marsala… and truly is Marsala… you’re paying for it, whether you’ve never had it before or not.

You wouldn’t believe how many people use restaurants as a way to sample dishes and expect them to be free. I remember I once had a table try Eggs Copehagen (a dish containing poached eggs on an english muffin, served with lox with hollandaise sauce) and Chicken Picatta (chicken breast floured and sauteed in lemon juice, served with capers); I went over to check on them and they complained they didn’t like the taste. I asked what was specifically wrong with them and the wife told me that she had never had lox or hollandaise sauce before and the husband said this was his first time trying capers with any dish. They ended up ordering two completely different dishes and enjoyed their meal. Though, they certainly were surprised when I handed them a receipt that still had one of their original orders listed into the total (see, I’m not a total ass…I could’ve charged for both). I’m sorry, but the restaurant has to pay for those eggs, the chicken, the capers, the lox, the hollandaise sauce, and the sides that come with both of those meals. Why do customers assume that they magically become free when you decide you want to experiment at a restaurant?

Another issue I’ve witnessed is people literally asking for things for free. The restaurants I’ve worked at offered complimentary bread with all dinner entrees; If someone was to order a lunch entree, and wanted a bread basket, a small fee - similar in price to a side of toast - would be added to their bill. Numerous times customers complained that I should have warned them that the bread wasn’t free. I couldn’t fathom this. If you go to a grocery store and there is a a deal that allows you to grab a loaf of white bread for free with a purchase of a pork roast, would you assume that deal stands if you were to purchase a butterball turkey? No, right? So why the fuck would this bread suddenly be priceless? Eventually, to save me from a headache, I forewarned my customers of the $1.25 charge that would be added to their bill. Though every once and while, if they were rude, I didn’t waste my breath. Surprise! ;)

Upcharges have always been confusing to customers as well. I recall having to explain to a woman why a fresh fruit cup was $0.50 more than french fries with an entree. Even after I very kindly explained to her how fresh fruit is more expensive than a massive bag of french fries, and that giving away fruit for free would mean we lose money, she demanded to not be charged. I just nodded and walked away from the table, allowing her to feel like she was important. When I delivered the bill, she immediately checked to make sure I didn’t include the 50 cent fruit upcharge. She was pleased to see her wrap only came to $7.99…the price it normally would be with french fries. So, I gave her fruit for free, right? Haha, please…The uppity woman failed to notice that her $1.50 soda was billed at $2.50 instead; 50 cents for the fruit upcharge, and another 50 cents for being a bitch.

Cheese on omelettes, extra sides, vegetables in salads, bacon on sandwiches, ice cream with pies, and coleslaw are all apparently free when you go out to eat. So, next time you go to a grocery store, I challenge you to grab slices of cheese, mashed potatoes, fresh produce, a couple slices of bacon, and a pint of ice cream, and see if the cashier charges you for it. If they don’t, then I’m wrong. But when they do, just remember, the restaurant pays for it too. It doesn’t suddenly become free because you’re sitting in a booth.

I have never spat on anyone’s food, ever. I pride myself in being able to say that.

Uh..but once, when I was sixteen and working at subway, I licked every layer of meat on a footlong sub my co-worker prepared for her boyfriend. Her boyfriend abused her and she stuck by him no matter what. I was just serving up a little karma.

The next day he came in and asked her to make the sub the same exact way she made it the night before. Because she wasn’t wrapping it up and bringing it home at the end of her shift, I was unable to add my special touches.

He threw it out when he was only half-way done, stating it wasn’t as good as the previous night. I learned two things that night.

1. I must have delicious saliva.
2. Once you go Billy, eating anything else is silly. ;)

Hello, how are you today? My name’s Billy, I’ll be taking care of —

“— I want the hot open turkey. I’m in a rush.”

No problem. So did you want that on white, wheat, or rye? And to drink?

“White. Nothing to drink.”

- - -

Here you go sir, Hot open turkey on white. Can I get you anything else?

“Yeah. You can get me something else. You can get me that water I asked for.”

Oh, my mistake sir. I didn’t hear you, - BECAUSE YOU NEVER FUCKING SAID THAT - I’ll be right back.

- - -

Here you go. Need anything else, sir?

“Yeah, I need you to do your job, and bring me my lemon”

Right, - THE LEMON. THE FUCKING LEMONS YOU ‘ASKED’ FOR - one second..

- - -

There we are, enjoy!

“Where are the extra napkins? Do you even listen?”

.

.

ε/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿ ̿ (•̪●)

My first job in a restaurant I was hired as a busser. I had the “absolute pleasure” of removing dirty dishes, cleaning up children’s vomit, mopping off seniors who wet straight thru their Depends, and the likes. My favorite task however, was slushing wrist-deep through what I call “busboy slurry”, to find silverware. What is this magical busboy slurry, you ask? Well, as a busser removes the dirty cups and dishes from your table into their bucket, the remains of your meal sometimes always slide off the plates, and fall to the base of the bucket. As the busser fills the remainder of their buspan with cups, liquids also end up finding their way to the bottom. By the time the busser brings the bucket to the dishwashing station to be sorted, a variety of trash has mixed together, creating a sticky, awful smelling slurry.

Bussers don’t get disgusted easily, but they do fear this sewage-like mixture. It is wretched and if it gets on your clothes, you’ll be smelling it for the entirety of your shift. Which brings me to my story…

A server - we’ll name him Kyle - was taking care of a table, while I bussed the empty table beside them. The customer ordering was in his early fifties, balding (but trying to hide it with the classic side-swipe), and red in the face. He resembled a toad in stature and facial expression, except slightly angrier. His wife and children all sat across from him, blank-faced and nervous of the man before them, and they kept their heads down while they waited for their drinks. His order consisted of hot chocolate, two coffees, and a tomato juice. For some reason, I always know what tables to pay attention to, and because of this, I took my time busing the adjacent booth.

Kyle comes back with the drinks, after waiting for fresh coffee to brew, refilling the hot chocolate machine, and opening the tomato juice can. All of these hassles in combination with one another can make the normal two-five minute wait for your drinks go up to a five-seven minute wait. The customer, however, didn’t think about that. Why should he have to? It’s HIS Sunday breakfast, HE shouldn’t have to be courteous or understand. HE is a customer, HE is always right. YOU should work faster. YOU are a server. YOU = Slave. No, seriously, this is how they think..

To make a long story short, the man complains about how long it took to get the drinks.

“Why the hell did I have to wait ten minutes for my drinks?” The man asks cruelly, attempting to grab the drinks off the drink tray the server is balancing. Kyle steps away, ensuring the man doesn’t grab the drinks, thus preventing a massive spill that I’d have to clean.

“Sorry sir. I had to open a fresh can of tomato juice, wait for the coffee to brew, and refill the hot chocolate machine before I could run it.” He explains apologetically as he places the drinks onto the table. 

“That’s unacceptable. You know, you people should work harder, maybe then you could make something of yourselves. Fucking horrible, ten minutes for drinks.” He proceeds to take a sip of his tomato juice, and just before the glass reaches his lips, he pulls it away from his face dramatically.

Now, this is where shit hit the fan. Up until this point, Kyle had kept his cool. People act this way all the time, he was used to it.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU PUT A LEMON IN MY TOMATO JUICE!?” The man screams, causing a scene. Now, tables from every section turn to Table 61 to witness who is making an ass of themselves. I didn’t even try to hide the fact that I was listening in…everyone else was doing it. “DID I FUCKING ASK YOUR FAGGOT ASS TO TOSS A LEMON IN MY DRINK?!”

The server was flamboyant, and yes, he was homosexual. However, no one ever deserves to be treated this way at work. In fact, sexuality should never be an issue when dining out. The world is filled with unique people; if you don’t like that, you have a kitchen, don’t go out to eat. Kyle turns red in the face, and goes to take the drink away from the man to replace it. The customer picks up the glass, splashes it’s contents onto Kyle, and then drops it at his feet.

At this point, I’m fuming pissed at this man, and feel horribly for Kyle who just stands there in shock. Not only do I have to clean glass shards off the floor, and mop tomato juice up, but he just verbally and physically attacked my coworker.

“Now go get me one without the lemon.” The man spits coldly, turning away from the server. Kyle, didn’t move. He was so embarrassed, so pissed, but trying to keep cool. Me on the other hand, well, I didn’t give a fuck. I’ve been called a faggot before, I could’ve handled that…but at that point I had never had anyone throw their drink onto me.

Picking up my busbucket, I stand before the table and give the man a fake smile.

“Certainly sir, but first…” And rather than walking away, I tilt the bucket so that the busboy slurry pours out of it, splashing directly onto his bald head and lap. I had never done anything like that in my life. I had never had a pair of balls like that before. I did it for Kyle and for myself and for everyone else in the restaurant business.

My manager scurried from the back of the restaurant - the hostess obviously called her to come out onto the floor - and to my surprise, kicked the man out of the restaurant. Apparently when she forced him to pay for his tomato juice for a total of $1.96,  he threw two bills at her, saying the change (four cents) was for his “fag of a server and his butt buddy”. Our boss approached us after and split the tip among the two of us.

I bet the man was surprised when he got home and realized that rather than throwing two singles, he threw one single and one fifty dollar bill.

Best $24.52 tip EVER.