So last night I had to work a private party, with an appetizer buffet set up.  I had to work this party of 24 people by myself, which wasn’t a problem.  The problem started when along with this private party of 24, this private Christian “Lifeway” party of 24, this private Christian “Lifeway” non-drinking party of 24 that only wanted a bunch of diet cokes and dr. peppers, I had to also wait on a party of 9 in our pool room, a party of 4 in the pool room, a party of 8 in the bowling alley, and one of the most ghetto tables I have ever taken sitting on a table behind a lane in the bowling alley.  All this combined makes for a Ribeye that has been cut from the cow, thrown into the ground, and run over by an ancient piece of shit wagon from the Oregon Trail!

First, let’s start with the uber-Christians.  Now I have no problem with anyone’s religious choices, and I’d never bash someone for their religious choice, but please please PLEASE do not do any of the following while I’m waiting on you.

1.)   DO NOT ASK ME TO SIT DOWN AND PRAY WITH YOU BEFORE YOU BITE INTO EACH PIECE OF CHICKEN.

2.)  DO NOT HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK ME IF I HAVE BEEN SAVED. 

3.)  DO NOT ASK ME TO JOIN YOU AT YOUR CHURCH.  I DO NOT CARE THAT YOU WERE UP THERE UNTIL 2 A.M. A FEW NIGHTS AGO, SINGING AND SPEAKING IN TONGUES, GETTING THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD.  THAT’S YOUR THING NOT MINE.  I’M NOT AGAINST JESUS, BUT I HAVE MY OWN WORSHIP, AND WORK IS NOT THE PLACE FOR PREACHING.

4.)  DO NOT TELL ME THAT I’M GOING TO BURN IN HELL BECAUSE I’M GAY, BECAUSE I FLIRT WITH THE WOMEN AT MY JOB, BECAUSE I DON’T GO TO CHURCH, OR BECAUSE I ASK YOU TO NOT HECKLE ME ABOUT MY RELIGIOUS BELIEFS.

5.)  THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT RULE:  NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER LEAVE ME A FUCKING PRAYER CARD, A CHURCH PAMPHLET, A LITTLE JESUS COMIC BOOK, OR ANY OTHER CHURCHY TYPE OF FLYER OR PAPERWORK AS YOUR TIP.  YOUR PRAYERS DO NOT PAY MY BILLS, AND WE TEND TO THROW THEM IN THE TRASH, OR PUT THEM ON OTHER PEOPLES TABLES AS JOKES.  WE HATE GETTING THOSE THINGS, AND IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU ALL GOT IT!!!!!!!!!

Now that we’re past those rules.  This “Lifeway” party I was forced into taking, with a gratuity I won’t receive until I get my next paycheck in 2 weeks, broke all 5 of those rules during the course of their 2 hour party.  That’s never happened before, and part of me was pretty impressed with it.

Next, we’ll talk about the big party in the pool room.  No one in the restaurant bothered to tell me that it was another private party, and that I wasn’t supposed to be working it.  I started a tab with them.  Lots and lots of alcohol, that ended up getting transferred away from me, along with that nice big gratuity.  It all got transferred to the two servers who actually served them the food.  I worked for 2 hours getting them drunk and building up a tip that I should have gotten.  I ended up getting about 2/3rds of what I was supposed to get.  Had to split it with 2 other servers.  Wanted to strangle management for not telling me about it.  Wanted to strangle the party for demanding that 2 drinks per person be put on the private party bill for me to not be added onto.   Screwed out of money that I worked hard for.

The party of 4 was fine, tipped great.  The other party in the bowling alley, the 8, tipped on top of the gratuity.

Then we come to the ghetto party.  Not just ghetto but we’re talking, pure and unadulterated trash.  Three women, absorbing stools into their asses while wearing next to nothing and making my stomach churn, and a skinny man with rows in his head, naps sticking out all over the place, and faux gold teeth.   Seeing that I’m busy, they saw fit to tell my general manager that I was just ignoring them, when I’d stopped by and told them I’d be right with them.  While they waited for me, they bitched very loudly about how slow I was, when I was running, running in the literal sense, to get things done.  I make it back to the table after dropping off a tray of about 12 drinks to the pool room.

This is how it started:

“Hey everyone, I’m very sorry about your wait, I’ve been running a bit.”  Nothing like being honest, or so I thought.

“Well it’s about goddamn time you fuckin got here, we’re starving.”  says fat bitch #1.

“Once again, I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m here now.  Can I start you all with a couple of “insert signature drinks here”  I pull out pen and book fully prepared to write down their order.

“How many wangs ya’ll give on a orda”  says fat bitch #2. “We be hongry and you took too long”

“There are 8 wings per order, and you can have them in either mild, spicy or bbq”

“We want fo plate of hot wangs wit sum rainch, and fo wadda”  says fat bitch #1.

“Alright ma’am, would you all like the wings as an appetizer or as your entree?”

Fat bitch #2 rolls eyes. “Jus get da damn food and our wadda, and make it snappy”  Ok bitch, let me stab you now.

I go put the order in, and get their waters.  Fat bitch #3 “What about the lemon? It pose to come wit lemon”

“No ma’am, none of you asked me for lemon.”

Skinny cornrow thug trash #1 “we ain gotta ask, you pose to brang it wit da wadda!”  No, moron, I’m not.

“No sir, water only gets lemon when you ask for it.”

Fat bitch #1 “Then go get the fuckin lemon and quit talkin bout it, dayum, we thursty!  You betta brang a like 2 plates of em.”

Thats alright.  2 plates of lemon for your 4 glasses of water = 4 lemonades rung into the computer.

“Where da fuck our lemon be at?”  Fat bitch #3 hollers over the noise of the music and other guests.

“Right here, ma’am, I just had to ring in your drinks.”   I get to the table, and here’s fat bitch #1 again.  “What you mean you had to rang in our dranks?  Aint wadda free?”

“Water is free ma’am, but lemonade is not.  That’s a lot of lemons you’ve been given, and I’m not giving you the equivalent of 4 lemons for free.  So, you’ll be paying for lemonade, or you don’t get lemons.”  I walked off, and hoped to not see them again until I brought them refills.  As I start to walk off, I see them all get up, and head toward the buffet that was set up for my “Lifeway” party.  I see them grabbing chips, and I see them dipping those chips into the salsa on the table, and then double dip.

“What are you all doing?” I ask, walking up to them and trying to put myself in between the 900 pounds of flesh these women represented with no luck.

“I told you we be hongry, and we is snackin while we wait fo oua wangs” says fat bitch #2.

“This food is not for you.  This food is for THIS private party.  This food is blocked off, and is not for the general public.”

“Well why da fuck not?  We had to wait an hour for you to get to us, and we’s hongry!”  says fat bitch #3.

“Because you didn’t pay for it ma’am, they did.  They didn’t offer you said food, and they’re now complaining to management about your eating their food.  Please return to your table and I’ll have your wings out when they are ready.”

“You cain tell my girls what to do like that.  That public food and they hongry.”

“No, sir, it’s not, and if they are caught eating off of this private parties buffet again, I’m going to escort you all from the building.”

Long story short, they got their wings, they threw the bones on the floor, and they talked to my gm, who made them pay for the lemonades I rang up.  I love being backed up by the managers.

I just love serving.  I still ended up making pretty good money, even though I had trash, and had money taken out of my pocket by people who didn’t know what they were doing, and guests who were just plain stupid.

Until next time,

Ribeye

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