Saturday Night.

It’s very tiring being nice to people for eight hours.  I’m exhausted.  And by exhausted I mean wiped out.  Of course this might have something to do with the fact that I only got about four hours of sleep last night.  Did I mention how much I hate sunny days when I’m trying to sleep.  So by 8:30 I was getting the full effects of the morning sun.  And to make matters worse.  The small munchkin who lives upstairs has only just recently learned to walk.  And I think today he learned how to walk on his heels.   And what really woke me up was his scurrying across the floor from one room to another.  And what can you do?  It is 9:00 on a Saturday morning.  It’s not their fault that I work nights.   Ugh.  I did manage to get a 45 minute nap in on the couch before I left for work.  My favorite part of the nap was when my roommate woke me 15 minutes before I needed to be woken because he thought I was going to be late for work.  What he didn’t know is that I OFTEN take naps before work and I ALWAYS set the alarm on my phone so there are no mishaps.  It was very sweet of him to be worried about me.   It’s one of the many reasons he’s the best roommate I’ve ever had.

NOW…

Can I bitch about work for a minute.  Oh calm down it’s my blog if I want to bitch about work I can.

I had the most fucked up night tonight.  Would you believe that every table I waited on tonight had the nerve, the fucking nerve to tip me 20%.  I mean who do they think I am…the god of all servers.

That’s right boys and girls.  I had the best night tonight that I’ve had in weeks.  I only got one bad tip all night and it had been such a great night up to that point that I just didn’t care.   They were the only table to not tip at least 20%.  I had at least six or seven tables that tipped more like 30%.  And one table tipped my ten bucks because I brought them two beer and a water because they knew they were taking up very valuable seats.

And what a night it was:

There were the drunk Long Island Girls.  You get their story tomorrow.

There were the two cute boys from Canada.  You get their story later as well.

There was the guy with only one leg.  I was afraid to ask what happened because you never know what the answer is and it may be something they don’t want to discuss.  This particular guy was a soldier (he showed me his ID) so my guess was that he lost it in Iraq.   But like I said I didn’t ask.  He was cute though.   And I kept thinking about whether he would take the leg off before he put the other one in the air.  I’m just saying…he was cute.

And last night I talked about my crush at work.  Well I have a new one.  Justin.  OH MY!!!  I’ve always thought he was cute and he’s very nice.  Well tonight I was standing in the locker room when he came in to change into his uniform.  I didn’t know the male speciman could be so perfect.  Perfectly taught stomach with a little six pack action going on.  Yummy.  I’m going to start stalking him, just to see him without his shirt again.

The server manager cornered me tonight as well to let me know that he’d changed next week’s schedule and told to make sure that I checked it before I left tonight.  I was afraid of what it might look like since Gina, my arch nemesis, had gotten screwed on her schedule for next week.  But what would you know, he actually made my schedule better than it already was.  Yippee!!!!

Of course there were two bad thing that happened tonight.

First was that I got a bad survey.  Just like every other business in America right now, there is a survey attached to your check that guests are asked to fill out on-line about their visit.  I try to point this out to the guests that seem to like me.  Of course 99% of the people that you ask don’t bother with it.  And the 1% that are left are the ones that hated everything.  Which was the case tonight.  I got a survey back with a 3.2 average out of 7.  Fuck.  Actually in the big scheme of things it doesn’t really matter.  They just like our averages to be around 6.  What sucks about this particular guy is that I remember him.  And his visit.  Seems he was a little pissed off about the quality of his food.  He thought there should have been more.  And that it was over-cooked.  Of course the question I asked the manager was why he would want more over-cooked food.  He was also annoyed that his guest frequent flyer card wasn’t being read by the computer and this was clearly my fault.  SO…because he didn’t like the fajitas, and they weren’t big enough, and because his frequent flyer card wouldn’t work, he decided to make it all my fault and give me a bad survey.  Damn him.

And did I mention that he didn’t way a word about any of this while he was in the restaurant.

And second, five women who were cranky beyond belief moved to my table.  They had been sitting at my friend Jess’s table.  And after she got them their drinks and put their food into the computer they just got up and moved.  So when Jess told them they couldn’t do that they got upset.  And so to appease them, she gave me the check.  I walked over to greet them…and they started screaming at me.  How dare that waitress get upset with us.  What fucking difference does it make where they sit.  They are the customers shouldn’t they get what they want.  All of this at the top of their lungs.  I tried to calm them down and they only shouted louder.  And so…I told them to stop screaming at me.  And they told me, while still screaming at me, that they were shouting because the music was so loud.  And I explained that no…in fact they were screaming at me.  At which point they started again.  So I looked at them…and said…”We are done here.”  And wouldn’t you know it there was a manager standing right there as I turned around.  I looked at the manager and said, “I don’t allow my mother to yell at me.  I certainly won’t allow THESE women to yell at me.  They are all yours.”  I don’t know what she did with them but when I came back they were gone.  And as I told my favorite table of the evening sitting next to them, I will NOT be yelled at  Not by anyone.  I make 3.35 an hour.  And even if I made 335.00 an hour.  I will not be yelled at at work.  Never.

And the best part.  I didn’t know this till later.  But evidently the bitchy table noticed my “fun” table watching them yell at me and made some comment about it to each other.  To which the boisterous fun lady at my table said to them, “What the fuck you looking at bitch.”  I think she scared the.  They told me all of this after the table had been disposed of.  I thanked them profusely for defending my honor.

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2 thoughts on “Saturday Night.

  1. Kelly March 2, 2008 / 08:12

    You make me want to wait tables again… I loved it when I had good days and fun people… those days rock…

  2. Lemuel March 2, 2008 / 15:06

    What a night! Glad you made out ($$$) over all.

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