Waiting Tables…Day Four

So I worked my first real shift today.

Sort of.

I’m not on the schedule this week because someone didn’t have enough foresight to realize that I might need a few shifts. So to get shifts I have to show up at “The Lottery” that’s held every morning and every afternoon to replace servers that call in sick. Sometimes there are only one or two people that show up. Sometimes it’s ten to fifteen. Today however, I was the only one to show up so I got a shift. Unfortunately, it was the worst section in the restaurant, and I’m about 90% sure that the hosts were told to take it easy on me. Which might explain why I never had more than two tables at a time.

When it was all said and done I had a great day. I didn’t make as much money as I would have like to, but considering how slow the lunch shift was today, I did great. I walked out of the restaurant with 20% of my sales, which is rare. Especially after tipping out the bussers and bartenders. However, more than anything, it was money I didn’t have when I started the day. Now if I can only pick up shifts during the rest of the week, life will be okay.

And the best part of the day. There was no drama. No fits. Not fights. No feuds. No egos. I have come to the conclusion though that I work with a bunch of assholes. I’ve never worked in any restaurant where the staff was so unfriendly. Usually people rally around the new guy trying to make acquaintances, alliances, and get them on their side. Not so much here. In fact there were a few people that never spoke to me at all today, even when I tried to engage them in conversation. As my roommate said, this will keep me from hanging out after work and going to the bar and drinking my earnings. Especially if no one talks to me. Personally I’m no to worried about it. I’m there to make money, do my job and go home. I’m not really there to make friends. If I do, great. If I don’t, great.

I do know this. My feet have never hurt so badly in my life. The bottoms of them feel as if they are bruised. And on top of that my toes hurt. I actually went to the gym today, but I was too tired and sore to work out. So I did the treadmill for seven minutes and said fuck it and came home. I hope this doesn’t continue. I’m tired of the soreness and I want to have the energy to work out.

ps…that’s not my foot but that’s how sore they feel.

Waiting Tables…Day Three

My feet are fucking killing me.

Enough said.

Attention please.  Maddog is finished with his training.  YIPPEE!

I finished up tonight and got approval from the manager to be able to start picking up shifts.  Unfortunately, my lovely friend Samantha forgot to put me on this week’s schedule, so I have to go in everyday and hope that someone wants off and lets me work.  It’s a fucked up sort of system, but at this point I need the money too much to wait.

As for the evening.

The spawn of Satan were present for two hours in the restaurant tonight.

I’m not kidding.

The most worst behaved children (around 7 – 10 in age) I have ever seen (7 of them in total) along with five grown men were seated in an area of the restaurant adjacent to mine.

It started when the group arrived in the restaurant.  The children were all over the place.  They were running, and yelling and doing just about everything they could.  At one point the manager found them in a closed bar of a roped off part of the restaurant.  They were putting the cola gun in their mouths and drinking from it.  They were caught twice trying to look up the skirts of women in the restaurant.  At one point they purposefully tried to trip a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.  All of this before they were given a table.

After they got the table it was worse.  At no time were all seven children ever seated.  They ran around.  They continued to yell.  The manager had to escort them out of the kitchen.  Finally when she’d had enough, she went to the table and told the men they’d have to control their children, because it was a restaurant not a playground.  An argument ensued.  They accused her of trying to embarrass them about their children and told her she had no right to tell them how to discipline the kids.  She finally told them that if they got hurt or caused someone to get hurt they would be liable, not the restaurant.  This didn’t do much good, but at least she covered her bases.

The icing on the cake.  When the 150.00 dollar check came at the end of the meal.  The men decided they weren’t going to pay for it, since the manager had talked to them about their children.  They were on their way out when another manager, Mike caught them.   Another argument ensued.  This time with all five men and seven children present.  It got louder and louder and eventually most people in the restaurant had stopped eating and were watching the festivities.  Mike finally told them that they could either pay the check or he could call the cops.  It was really their choice.  They continued to argue with him until he pulled out his phone and began to dial 911.  It somehow changed their minds.  They paid the bill and left.

Whew.

Of course it took the bussers almost 20 minutes to clean up after them.  The kids had dumped drinks on the floor.  Most of their food was on the floor, the tables and the chairs.  They had poured water into the sugar caddy as well as the salt and pepper.  When it was all said and done every employee present in that part of the restaurant  had to fill out an incident report because the men had declared they were going to call corporate and let them know how they’d been treated.

All this and it’s only day three.  How much more fun can it get?