1. It’s not my fault that you can’t taste the fucking rum in your strawberry daiquiri. (Who invented the spelling on this one?) If you want to taste the rum order a rum and coke. Or even better rum on the rocks. The whole fucking point of a strawberry daiquiri is to NOT taste the rum.
2. If you can’t taste the alcohol in your Long Island Tea it’s because you are a fucking alcoholic and need to leave my restaurant immediately and check yourself into rehab.
3. SERIOUSLY. You are NOT 21. And SERIOUSLY, you did not get served here last week. And SERIOUSLY do you think telling me this is going to get me to serve you? SERIOUSLY?
4. Do not get mad at me because your appetizer and entree came out together. I told you at 1:20 when you placed your order that the kitchen was closing and it would all come out together. If you wanted a slower paced meal then go to the fucking diner on 46th and 9th.
5. It’s not my fault that your food took 30 minutes to land on the table. So don’t yell at me!
6. Don’t ask me why I live in New York. Why the fuck do you live in Des Moines? Or Wichita? Or Tuscaloosa? I wanted to live here, I moved, and I’m happy about it. It’s a stupid fucking question.
7. Please. Pick up a tour book. A newspaper. A computer. It is no longer 1985 in New York. There are no prostitutes in Time Square. You are not going to get gang raped on the subway at 4:00 in the afternoon. Yes it’s safe to walk back to your hotel after the theater. And yes I ride the subway to and from work. Every day. Every night. No I am not scared. No it is not scary.
8. Don’t ask me if I “make bank” at my job? I don’t know. Tell me. Do I make bank? You are the one writing the fucking paycheck.
9. Yes New York is expensive. It is. But it’s not outrageous. I do NOT have to work three jobs to pay my rent. Besides it’s rude to ask that question.
10. If you are NOT going to tip me, then don’t come back three days later and act as though I’m the best server ever. You are a FUCKING ass. And might as well sit back for the ride because I’m not offering you shit. You want it, you ask for it. And then sit back and enjoy the ride because I’m not getting it till everyone else has what they need.
11. Don’t complain to me that the prices aren’t in the menu. And fuck you for saying, it’s my job I should know this. I know what the prices are. I don’t fucking make policy about what is and isn’t in the menu. If I did, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be talking to you on Friday night. I’d be out spending my six figure income.
12. You didn’t know there was a waiter. Really? REALLY? When was the last time you went into any fucking restaurant and someone didn’t wait on you. Especially a restaurant this big. You get table service at Jimmy’s the dive bar across the street that WE all go to.
13. REALLY. You didn’t notice the hundred other people out in the lobby waiting. You thought it would be okay to just come in, find an empty table and seat yourself. And now you are indignant that you have to move. REALLY!!!
14. Why if your bill is 89.37 cents do you tip 18.54 cents. The number is completely random. Just curious about that one.
15. No you can not go to the bar and get your own drinks. You have to sit there and wait for me to get them for you. No you are not doing me a favor by doing this. But I can do you a favor by letting you move to the bar so you can get things directly when ever you need them.
16. You are NOT the first person who doesn’t speak English as a first language that I have ever waited on. In fact you aren’t the first person who doesn’t speak A word of English that I have waited on. We’ll get through this. It’s my job. I’ll make sure you get what you want and I won’t take advantage of you.
17. If you know to tip 10 dollars on a hundred then you know it’s not an appropriate tip. In fact if you know enough to leave a tip at all you know what’s enough and what’s not enough.
18. What do you mean you don’t understand percentages in America. It’s fucking math. It’s the same everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Especially in the UK. The language is the same. The numbers are also the FUCKING SAME!!!
19. Yes table 61 is my table. But why do I have to spend 15 minutes in the kitchen explaining that I did NOT order a jumbo combo for the table. I don’t know who put the fucking order into the computer. I don’t know where it’s supposed to go. I don’t know who made the fucking mistake. But I don’t need two waiters, a food runner, an expo, and a manager tell me to come to the kitchen to fix the mistake. IT’S NOT MY FUCKING MISTAKE TO FIX.
20. Do NOT assume that at 1:12 (we close at 1:15) that I want all five tables that are waiting to be seated. But did it matter to you that my station was empty. My side work was done and all I had to do was wait three minutes to run my report. Fuck NO it didn’t. So instead of leaving work at 1:15. I left at 2:35. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
(and two of those last five tables stiffed me completely).