I hate people…

I hate people.

Especially tonight.

We were VERY slow at work tonight.  And when I say slow I mean SLOWWWWWWW!

So when a someone sits at your table for three hours they better hook you up on their way out.

When I went on break tonight I had two Australian buys sitting at table 75.  Their tab was well over 150, most of it in alcohol.  When I returned from break it was closer to 200.  By this time they’d been at the table for close to 3 hours.  When they finally asked for their tab it was 242.56.  This scared me, but what can you do.

The called me over, handed me the check and their money and told me the change was mine.

I took a big breath and counted the money.

They’d given me 245.00.


Let me repeat that.


Yes, you heard that right.  After three hours of drinking, they left me 2.44 cents on a 250 dollar check.

I wanted to pick up the fork that was on the table and drive it into their hearts.  Assuming they have hearts.

I didn’t even know what to say.

This is hard enough to stomach when you are busy and can make up the sales, and a long table time.  When it’s three hours and their  check makes up half your sales for the whole night it pretty much sucks.

When it was all said and done it cost me 8 dollars to wait on the fuckers.  I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to work.

I really do hope they got hit by a cab on their way home tonight.



I do.

How Rude.

Last night I gathered three people up from the lobby and planted them at table 72.

I went back a minute or so later and asked them how they were doing.

I wish I’d never asked.

The three of them launched into a forty minute tirade of how awful NYC is.

I didn’t even know what to say.

I’m sorry you think there are so many people.  Perhaps next time you could convince your company to send you to Duluth.  There probably aren’t so many people there.

I’m sorry that you don’t understand why these people aren’t at home with their families.  Perhaps it might interest you to know that many of them started to work at 9:00 when and are still at work because people on the west coast won’t be finished with work for another hour or so.

I’m sorry that you don’t understand why the restaurant is so busy at 7:30 at night.  First.  This is not busy.  This is slow.  We won’t see busy again for another six weeks or so.  Second, everyone you see around you is a tourist.  Just like you.  Perhaps you might ask yourself the same question.  And third, unlike the poor oppressed people in the middle of the country we don’t have to be home to milk the cows.  We actually stay up past 8:30 on a school night.

I’m also sorry that you find the transexual female in the next section so bothersome.  You might also want to change the subject a little sooner next time.  I’m sorry that you feel that it’s disgusting but it’s really not for you to say.  Had you been more obvious I probably would have lost my job.  I’m not sure what the restaurant policy is on calling a guest a narrow minded bigoted ass hole.  I guess I would have found out.

I would never come to your home and make such rude remarks about where you live.  I might actually spend five minutes to find out how the natives live.  Where they like to eat.  What they like to do.  That is so much more appreciated then the rude comments that you made.

I leave you with this.

NYC is one of the top tourist destinations in the world.  It also must be doing something right for 8 million people to want to live here.  Perhaps you might want to look at what you bring to the table.

Second, you don’t get to make fun of anyone when two of you look like you just stepped out of a gay bar with your big TEXAS size goatees and jeans.  I wonder where they ended up later on.

This is not what I ordered!!!

I’ve been waiting tables for a very long time.  I’ve actually been in the restaurant business off and on for 30 years and tonight I actually saw something that I’ve never seen before.

It did not happen to me but I watched it unfold.

The food runner delivered the food to table 411.

The mother at the table called the waiter over, furious.


But you asked for the fajitas.


But it’s a fajita.


This went on for a bit.  Finally the lady asked for the menu and pointed to the photo in the menu and said,


Seems they’d ordered from the picture in the menu and not from the menu description.  In the photo the fajitas are already made.  This is what they were expecting.

All of this is okay and easy to understand the problem.

What happened next is not.

The table refused to eat the fajitas as they came.  They wanted them taken to the back and to have someone roll them for them.

So the waiter picked up the plates, went to the kitchen and spent the next five minutes rolling fajitas.

Everyone in the kitchen stood around and laughed as this occurred.

This is just one step short of asking the waiter to cut your steak for you.

And I sure as hell wouldn’t yell at a waiter and then ask them to take my food to the kitchen and have them “fix” it for me.

Can you hear me now?

Short and sweet tonight.

I know it’s 2012.

I know that 99.999999% of the world owns a cell phone.

And 100% of those cell phones have batteries.

And 100% of those cell phones have batteries that die.

I get that.

What I don’t get is why your dead battery is somehow my problem.

Don’t hold out your hand with your phone and charger and expect me to do something with it.

Don’t expect me to find a place for you to plug in your phone.

Don’t get mad at me when you realize that there is not an outlet for phones at every table.

And especially don’t get mad at me when I explain to you that the only outlet I’m aware of is across the restaurant and that you can plug your phone in there, but if it’s broken or even worse, stolen that is 100% your problem.

It’s your responsibility to charge your phone at night.  While you sleep.  Like 99.9999% of every one else.

It’s also your responsibility to realize that you can’t talk on your phone all day not expect the battery to die.

More importantly I ceased to care about three months before you even started planning to come to NYC.  It was not problem then.  It’s not my problem now.

So.  There.


Visions of Sugar Plums.

I hate Australians.

A lot!

For at least the 10th time in the past two weeks, I’ve been fucked royally by the Aussies.

Tonight I had a four top.  I was nice enough to get them another table when they said they were cold.  I took great care of them.  And then they kindly left 8 dollars on their 100 dollar tab.

At the end of the night I had a five top of Aussie’s drinking.  They ran up a 195 dollar tab.  They made a huge deal of giving me a tip.  A WHOLE 15 DOLLARS.  I wanted to shove  the money down their throats.  After tip out I got to keep five of those dollars.  It was pretty much a complete waste of time.

Lately I’ve seen myself causing my customers physical injury.

I see myself tackling them as they start up the steps, shoving them back down the steps and then beating them senseless for not tipping me.

I’ve also seen myself stabbing someone in the head with a fork for just being stupid.

I also want to beat the crap out of our new kitchen manager who is a worthless piece of shit.

I’m wondering if I should bring this up next week when I have an appointment with my head doctor.  What do you think?

I do know that it’s clear that I need to be doing something else for a living.  Soon.

Which is why I need to get out of the city.  I need peace.  And quiet.

I’ll end on this:

I also see myself sitting on our deck, sipping red wine, while Adam cooks steaks on our grill.

That’s a nice one.

October 1, 2012.

I should be in bed.  I actually should have gone to bed an hour ago.  It’s 4:13 and I’m still NOT in bed.

If Craigslist, YouTube and several other sites were working tonight I wouldn’t be in bed for another hour.  It’s kind of annoying that these sites aren’t working.  Which I think is awesome.  They are getting their message across loud and strong.  Screaming at the top of your lungs seems to be the only way to get Washington to hear you these days.

Back to being in bed.

I stay up because I don’t want to go to work.  When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll shower and go to work.  So going to bed now, means going to sleep, which means that in five minutes it will be time to go to work.  Which I hate.


It has been easier working this month because for the first time in a VERY long time I have a goal that I’m working toward.

By October 1 Adam and I will be living in Portland, Maine.

To do this means that we have to save a LOT of money.  Somewhere close to the 10,000 dollar mark.  Even more if we want to buy a house instead of rent.  We can do this.  I know we can do this.  In fact I have a plan.  I only have to put away 1000 bucks a month to have 9,000.  If Adam can put away half that then we have 13,5000.  More than enough to get us to Maine.

And how am I going to do this?



I’m doing my best not to give up any shifts at work.  If I work every shift that I’m scheduled that means a big increase in my pay.  I gave up 25 shifts last year.  Those were shifts that I was scheduled that I did NOT work.  I was either sick or lazy.  Sometimes both.  Either way I didn’t work them.

So.  If I can NOT do that this year then that’s a first step.


I fired our cleaning lady.  Her last day is tomorrow.  She was NOT happy, but it’s an extra 200 bucks a month.  I actually want to keep taking the money that we’d usually pay her and put it in the account as well.  Perhaps we can save even more.

At the end of February we are moving all of our stuff from our storage unit and piling it in the guest room.  We spend 100 bucks a month on storage, which we’ve needed.  BUT.  We can disassemble the bed, and then pile everything in the room, leaving room for me and save that money.

That’s 700 dollars saved from storage.

That’s 1,600 dollars saved from cleaning.

Add that to what I’m trying to save from work.

Add that to what Adam will put away and we should be on track to having the money that we need.

The only real curve right now is that January sucks for a couple of reasons.

Work is slow but we are getting through it.


More importantly.

Starting with Christmas we have Xmas, then two weeks later our anniversary, then two weeks later Adam’s birthday, and then two weeks later Valentine’s Day.  It’s a lot of celebrating all at once.

To make matters worse this year is that Adam’s best friend is coming to NYC.  Her birthday and Adam’s birthday are on the same day.  AND.  She’s turning 40 this year.


So we have a VERY expensive dinner scheduled for Friday the 27th.  And then we are going out for drinks on Saturday, inviting all of their friends.

So.  If we can just get through January without losing our shirts we should be fine.

I hope!


I’m out of habit with doing this, so I have forgotten to blog for a bit.  I’m really striving to get back to it because I really enjoy it.


I’ve wanted to write about this for probably a hundred year and have just never gotten around to it, so here goes.


There I said it.

It’s neither endearing or sexy.  It actually is quite the opposite.  It makes me want to pick up the fork on your table and end your worthless life.  Okay, maybe it’s not that bad.  



Stop giggling.  Stop talking in a whining voice.  Stop acting like you are too stupid to be able to figure out if you want Diet Pepsi or water.  Stop pretending that choosing what you want for dinner ranks up there with where you want to go to college.  

It really makes me want to scream.

Tonight at work there was a normal very attractive couple.  And the minute I walked up to the table I knew that I had a girl like this.  She could figure out what she wanted to drink.  She couldn’t figure out what she wanted to eat.  And.  She had to make a huge production number out of the fact that she didn’t know what she wanted to drink and she didn’t know what she wanted to eat. 

And then.

She giggled. 

I hate giggling.  Anyone over the age of 1 should not giggle.  

Laugh.  Enjoy yourself.  DON’T GIGGLE.

It probably took this girl 20 minutes to order.  

And to make matters worse her boyfriend/husband was encouraging the behavior which only made me hate her more.  Which really did make me want to stab her in the face with a fork.

There are also a couple of girls that I work with that are like this.  They think that if they act stupid they’ll get there way/people will like them more/they will have to work less.  Who the fuck knows but it drives me insane.

The also act this way with their tables and I completely believe it effects the money they make.

 There is a reason that strong A type men become CEO’s.  The walk into a room and they take what’s there and everything else they can.  I’m not like this in real life, but I’m exactly like this at work.  Don’t fuck with me.  I don’t want my co-workers to fuck with me.  And.  I won’t let my customers fuck with me.  In fact I’ll nip that in the bud before it happens.  You may not tip me but you won’t walk all over me.  

There are people at work who are constantly complaining about how their customers are rude to them.  My customers are NEVER rude to me.  At least not more than once.  I stop it in it’s tracks and move on.  And NO ONE ever complains that I’m rude to them.  Because I don’t have to be.  I act like I’m a type A asshole and it gets the job done.

I’m not even sure that I’m still on the point I was trying to make.


Don’t act stupid.  No one likes.  ACT SMART.  Everyone prefers that.

Trust me. 

Breathe In. Breathe Out. Breathe In. Breathe Out.

I hate my life.

At least I did tonight.

Tonight sucked in a big way.

It was one of those nights where you find yourself on edge worrying that someone is going to do the wrong thing and you are going to be fired.

They might for instance, sit at your table for close to four hours and then tip 4 dollars.

Or they might ask for separate checks when they had the exact same things.

Or they might get pissed because when they asked for champagne you gave them “sparkling wine.”

Or they might get upset because the potato skins have bacon.

Or they might decide that they don’t want to eat at your table, but they’ll sit there and wait till a “real” table becomes available.

Or they might sit down at your table, order two waters and a cheeseburger.

Or they might be customers from the other night that find you and ask to sit in your station again tonight and tip you the same as the other night which is about .04 percent.

Or they might be upset that they can’t have iced tea at 1:25.

Or they might be upset that even though you told them the kitchen was closing they can’t get another order or wings.

Or they might be annoyed that it’s 1:30 and the bar has announce “last call,” because it’s the city that never sleeps.

Or they might start gesticulating where is there food about 12 seconds after you leave the table with their order.

Or the kitchen manager might drop the ball and your table has to wait 20 minutes on a recook.

Or you might have to stand and wait 15 minutes while the dessert guy finishes chatting with the maintenance guy (probably about when they are going to go smoke pot later in the night.)

Or some girl named Shannon will get in your personal space and rub your belly even though you’ve told her if it happens again you are going to management.

Or some idiot new guy can’t figure out that you can’t stand in the door to the wait station.  Period.

Or some idiot girl breaking you, who has purple hair and a lip ring, is more concerned about getting your break over with than actually doing a good job.

Or the fucking managers who now have control over the music play nothing but hard core heavy metal music for the last 12 hours of the shift.

It was one of those night.

I have been home for at least two hours and I’m still in a pissy mood.

Adam just got up to pee and told me to go to bed.

I’ll see you guys tomorrow.


To Buy or Not to Buy.

I almost forgot to post tonight.

I’ve spent the last two hours looking at real estate online.

Adam and I are starting the process of figuring out exactly what we are doing when we get to Maine.  (Still more to come.)

The point to be made is that we “think” we are going to try and buy something instead of continuing to throw our money away.

So I’ve been trying to figure out what we can afford.  Which is actually quite a lot.  We don’t have a huge laundry list.  Kitchen for Adam.  Space for me.  The rest is negotiable.

Of course all of this is conditional assuming that we can come up with the down payment and then qualify for a loan.

We are going back up to Maine in about a month to start looking at things and to speak to a mortage broker to see what we need to do and if they think it’s even possible.

In the meantime.

I spend hours looking and looking and looking.


Three years ago today.

Adam and I met three years ago today.  Our official anniversary is next week.  But we actually met three years ago today.

It’s hard to believe that something so wonderful coming out of something that some might see as “trashy.”

It’s also hard to believe that this wonderful man continues to love me in spite of all my faults.  (Just ask him.  He’ll point them out to you.)

It’s also hard to believe what a wonderful adventure the last three years have been.

It’s also hard to believe that right now as I type this we are planning the next adventure.

Adam is an awesome guy.

I’m a lucky guy.