It’s friday night.
I’m home from work.
I have Diet Coke in hand.
The weekend has arrived.
Tonight in server news.
Wanna piss off a waiter. Especially Maddog. This is what you should do.
First you should be annoying as fuck. All the time. All day everyday. So much so that every time you work, people pray as you look for a seat that you don’t sit next to them. Unfortunately it really doesn’t matter where you sit, because you are suddenly the only thing anyone can hear in the room. And unfortunately not everyone is interested in your fantasy football league. (Can someone explain this to me? I don’t understand why grown men spend time on their computer working out game strategies. Perhaps if they engaged someone, anyone in a conversation they might get laid. Or at least wouldn’t have to spend every night at home. ALONE.
Any way. I don’t care about your game. Or your other job. A Garbage Man. Or the fact that you are at the top of your pay rate of 65,00o dollars. I don’t care that you just bought a new living room set. I don’t care that you just got approved to move into the coop building unfortunately around the corner from me. Yes, I’ve been to the Indian Road Cafe, but I would NOT like to join you and your wife there for dinner. I don’t care that you have told your wife that you’ll pay for her to get new headshots and that you are giving her six months to break into acting before you are forcing her to get a real job. I don’t care that your building is having a roof top party on Sunday. Don’t give a fuck at all actually. For the most part, me and everyone in a 50 mile radius would like you to shut the fuck up.
This particular person also ALWAYS has a better way of doing things. Always. If you move the garbage can over there and put the computer there it will be better. If you do this and then that….or this and then that…And do you know what, every suggestion he makes makes things worse. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. I actually told our GM that I’d start paying him to NOT take this guys ideas.
So what did Micheal the asshole waiter do tonight.
The shift starts. We are already on a wait. I quickly appraise the situation and start taking control. And one of the first things I do is gather my stools at my counter and head to the lobby to start seating people. I’m walking past the bar and Michael is pointing someone toward my counter. I go over to see what’s happening.
I’m told, “My wife if just going to hang out here for a while.”
Me, “Is she going to order something?”
“I don’t know.”
“HMMMM.”
He goes over and says something and comes back to me and says yes she’s going to eat.
FUCK.
He’s just sat one person somewhere where two people could sit and he’s not sure she’s going to eat.
Turns out she did eat. A salad.
Which was good because I was going to give her five minutes and then tell her to get her ass into the lobby.
She was there almost two hours. And tipped me a whopping five dollars.
FUCK YOU YOU MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER.
In the two hours she was there I could have sat those chairs twice. With an average check of 50 dollars I could have made at least 20 bucks. It also could have been far more if it was a table of drinkers or serious eaters.
FUCK YOU YOU MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER.
He knew I was pissed. He tried to say something and I just walked away. And if he was so gung ho for his wife to be there why didn’t he put her in HIS own fucking section.
And if not then tell her to fucking tip more.
And you know what would have been the best scenario. Send her down the street to Starbucks. You don’t have to tip. You can sit as long as you want. And I won’t have to be bothered by your fucking ass.
Love, Maddog.
PS. The wife is as fucking annoying as Michael is. She talks like a baby and I think she buys into the idea that if she bats her eyes and plays dumb it will get her somewhere. I gave her two seconds and told her when she was ready to let me know. I’m not going to stand there while you talk all Marilyn Monroe while you figure out whether to have a fucking burger or a fucking salad. I have an idea, grow a pair, tell your fucking husband that he’s a douchebag and then go to McDonald’s and get a happy meal.
There.
A Maddog In The City 