My beautiful car, my 94 White Ford Thunderbird, is currently hovering at deaths door…and I don’t know how I’m going to save her.

About a month and a half ago, I saw the little light come on that said “Low Coolant”, and having had previous problems with overheating vehicles, I promptly bought more coolant and put it into the car.  Bessie was thirsty after all.  A couple of weeks later, I was driving home from somewhere (the where eludes me), when I noticed that the temperature was quite high.  FUCK, it’s overheating.  I stop at the mapco, and check the coolant.  The coolant looks gelatinous, and a little speckled.  I don’t know what that means, so I just sit there and hope it cools off for a while.  I turn the heat all the way up like I used to, added some more coolant, and tried to drive it home.  The heat started to rise again, so I pulled over before it overheated completely again.  I notice there’s white smoke coming from the tailpipe, and I start getting nervous.

Twenty minutes later, I finally get the car home, and I’m freaking out.  I’m afraid to drive it, and I don’t have the money to get it fixed.  There’s just too many bills right now, and we have RagingPartners vehicle.

It’s been a month and a half, and I finally got the RagingFather to look at the car.  RagingFather drives the car around the block, and encounters the fearsome white smoke coming from the exhaust.  Word is sent to us, telling us that the car has “Something Major wrong with it…or it’s just fucked.”

I just want to cry.  I don’t know what I’m going to do without my car.  I love my car.  I’ve had a hard enough time dealing with life without it, and now I’m going to be dealing with it for a lot longer.

Someone please come fix my car…

Ribeye

I’m mainly speaking about Christmas Day.  Last night, I found out just how quickly the spirit of the season vanishes from people.  Not only did I have people barking orders at me left and right, yelling at me because I couldn’t be in 9 places at once, and stiffing me, I also had 2 lanes walk out on me.  Who the fuck walks out on Christmas?

I wonder if the stupid hicks that were drinking Miller light and Bud light and lemonade thought that their drinks were just a Christmas gift from me to them!  Just like the write-up that Manager S the Fibromayalgic had to give me because of said gift.  It was a Christmas gift from that manager to me!  I was just so thrilled to have my first fucking writeup for a walk out since I started there over a year ago!

The 2nd lane must have thought their fucking buffalo wings and 4 sides of ranch were a gift as well.  Just a special “Thank ya so much guys!” from me to them for coming in and running me like a dog.  A hearty “Here ya go bitchez” for the beer and sweet tea I brought to them.  Thankfully, because I’d already gotten one special gift from my manager tonight, this manager didn’t see fit to gift me with another.  The 2nd one happened when I was on break, so technically, it wasn’t my fault.

I don’t think the first one should be my fault either.  One server can only do so much when he’s running 9 lanes and 2 pool tables at the same time.  When you have 60 people or more yelling at you for drinks, it’s hard to remember to ask for a credit card on every single tab I have open.  It’s even harder to do all this when you’re begging to have another server that’s not doing a damn thing come and help you out, but not getting any help.  I blame the restaurant for not helping me when I needed it.  I’m good, but I’m not that good.  Nor am I that conceited as to not ask for help when I need it.  Someone wise once told me “The best server is the one who knows how to give help when needed and to ask for help when he needs it.”  I’m no fool, I’m only going to run myself ragged if I have no other choice.

A hearty fuck you to the two lanes that walked out on me, and a hearty fuck you to the guy who I had to slow down on drinks that chose to tip me nothing on your 70 dollar check.  I remember who all of you are, because the lot of you come in all the time.  I’ll have you thrown out next time I see you, but only after I have you pay me the money you so lovingly fucked me out of….wait, I forgot…those were Christmas gifts from the Ribeye all for you!

What is it about Christmas that makes people lose their holiday cheer on Christmas night.  I know you all have eaten dinner with your family, you’ve taken pains to let me know about it when you came in.  God forbid you feel a bit of emotion that I’m in there bringing your shit out instead of spending time with MY family, who was very disappointed that I had to work in the first place!  Forget that I’m not getting fucking holiday pay for this, making 2.13 an hour makes no difference.

I have vacation hours that have to be used by the end of January.  I plan to take them…very soon…and I’m going to take them in between my normal days off.  I’m going to take almost a whole week off, and I’m going to rest my weary bones.  I’m going to rest my mind, and you’re all going to get stories from the past.  Stories from days where I worked as a dining room server at Cracker Barrel, and Dennys, and Shoneyland, and last but not least, T.G.I.Fridays.  *sigh* I’ll let you know when the vacation comes.

My frustration might also be stemming from the fact that I haven’t been off since almost 2 weeks ago.  I miss having a full day off.  I need the rest, the exhaustion is getting to me.  I feel like I’m getting bronchitus, and bronchitus isn’t fun.  Constant coughing, stuffy nose from the constant coughing.

Ok, so I went off onto an idle rant there, which is showing my need for sleep.

Later,

Ribeye

LEARN TO TIP YOUR FUCKING SERVER!!!

I, and the other servers who had to work today, did not come to work on Christmas Eve for you fucking bastards to come in, drink, eat, and fucking stiff us!  We could have stayed at home with our families and made no money.  But no, we came to work to serve you and your family and got screwed for it!  At least I was making Holiday pay, having been at the job for over a year now, but some of the others, man, they got royally screwed.

Not only were we getting stiffed, we were getting ordered about like little fucking children, talked to like we were dogs, and basically fucking up our sections like they were at their houses!

The worst table of the day wasn’t even mine, but I had to take care of them when they first got there.  Five ghetto girls, 2 of them were 21, the others were teenagers.

“Hey there ladies, I’m Ribeye, I’m going to be taking care of you until your actual server comes back from break.  How are you today?”

“We ain’ neva been heah befo, what you got good?” Deflaniquiana, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, asked me.

“That depends on what you’re in the mood for, ma’am, we have some good steaks, good pasta, and good chicken, but there’s also stuff that I wouldn’t recommend based on taste and lack of popularity.”

“We hongry, ya’ll got some chicken skrips uh some shkrimp?”

“We have both ma’am.  Can I go ahead and get you ladies some drinks while you’re looking over the menu?”

“What ya’ll steak come wit?  Ya’ll got some greens?  What about broccoli, uh some macaroni and cheese?”  Don’t even give me a chance to answer, and why would you give me a drink order, it’s not like I asked for one anyway.

“Here is our full list of side items, as you can see it’s not very big.”  I flip to that page in the menu so they can all see where to turn.  Instead of opening their own menus to that page, they all jump up, nearly knocking me to the floor trying to see it.

“Where ya’ll vegetable list? I don’t see no cone uh nothin on der.”

“That’s because those side items are the only ones we have here.  Can I bring you some drinks to get you started?”

“Why you keep tryin to get dranks fo?  Is you got sometin mo impotan ta do?”

“Well, ma’am, I do have other tables of my own, and while I’m currently taking care of you, I’m not actually your server.”  Wrong thing to say to those bitches.  Manger called, and they ended up getting free drinks.

Later, after they’d stiffed their server and thrown wing and rib bones all over the floor, they were out playing games.  We gave the announcement that we were closing, and I was tired of waiting for them to leave before I bussed the table.  They walked up while I was cleaning the table, and got all kinds of pissed off at me for it.

“We was gonna take dem chicken fanguhs home, what da Hell is you doin dumbass?”

“We’re closed, ma’am, we closed 5 minutes ago.  I’m cleaning your table, because I have a family to go to, and I’m tired of waiting for you to get your stuff.” As I said this, I slammed a plate drenched in ranch and honey mustard into the bus tub.  A bunch of it splashed up, and drenched some ugly faux fur jacket they’d left laying in the booth.

“Why you do dat?  Is you gon pay fa dat ta be cleaned?  You done almost ruined dat jacket, it cost ovah fo hunded dolla!”  The string of yelling at me continued until I finally started to walk off.  I didn’t even respond to them while I was being yelled at, because I don’t want to be fired.  As they walked out, I hear “Goddamn fucking waitresses jus throwin shit around don’t give no shit bout what day fuck up.  Dat why dat bitch din’ make no money off a us.”  I hate ghetto trash.  I also hate the accessories they had on, see below, I don’t want to dignify those accessories with words any longer.

See Ankle Holders.

Fucking furry spiked heel boots.  I hate these fucking boots, almost as much as I fucking hate those fucking Heely’s.  When worn in combination with ankle holders and short skirts and spaghetti strap shirts, it makes for a really slutty looking ghetto bitch.  Then add on the fake costume rings these “ladies” were wearing, and you have a true street walking whore.

At least they weren’t MY guests!

Merry Christmas everyone,

Ribeye

I really must demand that you stop serving it immediately!  I am so tired of people trying to order strawberry lemonade, raspberry lemonade, and raspberry tea.

Last night, I had a guest actually argue with me, telling me that we DID have strawberry lemonade and I just didn’t want to serve it to her!  She said that all restaurants had to have it because it was so popular.  Sorry honey, this one doesn’t, and we’re not going to miss your business if you don’t come back.  Fucking 2 dollar on 50 tip.

This is how her table went.  Keep in mind that she was rather nice at first and I thought that they would tip well.

“Hey guys, how are you tonight?”

“We’re doing good, thanks.”  At least they answered, not that they asked how I was doing on my 13 hour shift.

“Glad to hear it!  My name’s Ribeye, and I’ll be seeing to your needs tonight.”

“We’re ready to order if you want to go ahead and take it, we looked at the menu in the front when we got here.”  Sounds good to me, less work…or so I thought.

“We want some fried chicken, breasts, no dark meat.”  Huh?  I thought you said you looked at the menu you stupid whore!

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have that type of fried chicken.  The only fried chicken we have is strips.”

“I don’t want fanguhs.  How about some spaghetti and meatballs.”  Clearly they were looking at an imaginary menu when they walked in, or they were just trying to get what they wanted.

“Sorry, no spaghetti like that.  I’ll be glad to give you some more time, maybe get you a couple of margaritas or something from the tap perhaps?”

“No, we’re ready.  Give us this ______ (sorry, no actual menu item names allowed).  We’re going to need an extra plate too, we’re gonna split it.”  The woman here is doing all the talking, and as of now I’m going to name her Precious.  “I want a loaded potato with that too, and some onion rings.”  We have neither of those items, the side items are clearly listed on the page she’s looking at.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t carry either baked potatoes or onion rings.  Can I get you another side item?  This dish comes with loaded smashed potatoes and some really tasty and crispy green beans.”

“You don’t have baked potatoes tonight?  Are you out?”  This girl is just plain dumb, and she’s not listening.  Her boyfriend is clearly high, and I have two more tables I have to visit.  “No, ma’am, we’re not out, we just don’t carry those items at all.”

“Why not?  You can’t have chicken without a baked potato!”

“I don’t make the menu ma’am, I only abide by it.”  They ended up getting two sides of potatoes with their meal, as green beans are green.  No chives or bacon though, for pig and green onions are evil.

“What would you like to drink with your meal?”

“I’m gonna have 2 glasses of water with no ice, extra lemon.”  The guy finally speaks, and I start wondering why he orders two glasses of water when I could easily bring him a refill if he ran out.  “Yes sir, and ma’am, what would you like?”

“She’ll have a strawberry lemonade, with extra lemons and strawberries on the side.”   I’d like to know where in the drink menu or the food menu that has our N/A beverages does it say we have strawberry lemonade.

“I’m sorry, but it just seems to be a night of disappointment for you ma’am.  We don’t have strawberry lemonade here.”

“Yes you do, I just had it a few days ago.”

“No, ma’am, we don’t even offer it here.  We don’t have the things to make it.”   She’s starting to get agitated here, and so am I.

“Well if you don’t offer it then how could I have gotten it Thursday?”

“That will remain a mystery ma’am, because we don’t have the supplies to make a strawberry lemonade.”

“What about raspberry?”

“Ma’am, we don’t have any flavored lemonades, just regular lemonade.”

“What about some raspberry tea?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s just sweet or unsweet here.”  She finally got fed up and ordered a water like her stoned boyfriend.

Later, before I brought the food, I found out why he wanted the extra cup of water….they were silverware soakers.

Another moron of the night:  Wrinkly, somewhat passed middle aged, dyed blonde haired, white trash hick woman.  Not even my table, but I was trying to help out.

“Hey everyone, I’m going to get you all started until your server comes back from her break.  Can I get ya’ll some drinks to start you off?”

Holly the Hick takes the lead.  “I’m gonna have a coke, and the biggest bud light ya got.  The kids is gonna have some docta peppah…” the next girl interrupts, “I’m gonna have a bloody mary.”  I ask for her id, and Holly the hick interrupts, “You got them docta peppah’s right?”

“Yes, ma’am, I wrote it down when you said it the first time.”  I was a little short with her, but she didn’t notice, and I wouldn’t have cared if she did at that time.  I was pissy and it wasn’t my table.  “He,” pointing to Father Time who was sitting with her, “Is gonna have an iced tay.”

“Sweet or Unsweet?” I ask.

“I just told you, iced tea.  Didn’t ya heah me?”

“I just need to know what kind of iced tea, ma’am, sweet or unsweet.”

“Just regulah iced tea, none of that sweet or unsweet crap, just some regulah iced tea!”  She’s getting pissed off now so I decide to have some fun with it.

“What’s regular?”

“Are ya stupid?  It’s tea with no sugar in it!”

“So you mean unsweet tea.”

“No, just tea with no sugar!”  She’s turning red, and it’s all I can do to not bust out laughing at her at the table.

“Ma’am, that’s exactly what unsweet tea is.  The un means no, the sweet means sugar.  Combine the two, it makes unsweet!”

“Just bring the drinks, and hurry up,” the other girl cuts off our argument before we start yelling.  I don’t go back for a while after I take the drinks,  because as much fun as I had with the bitch, I just didn’t want to deal with her anymore.  I did go back later, got the order, but I didn’t pay any attention to them.  The server came back, and as far as I know was run to death and stiffed.

I hate people sometimes

Ribeye

This week, since nobody was actually scheduled to host “The Round Table”, I’m doing a Christmas edition. And without further ado:

Over at “Will Work for Tips”, it’s proven that I’m not the only server who has to deal with stupidity on a regular basis, and this dirty Bitch would have pushed me over the edge.

Inter-Server arguments are the rule at “Well Done Fillet” this week as Manuel deals with an incompetent co-worker while the guests watch…I feel your pain Manuel….I feel your pain…

Even we servers need to have a bit of fun sometimes, and if that means stripping down to nothing to pose for a website, then so be it! I just hope those 24 people are getting paid well…I personally could never do it though, I’m just not nudie pic material.

Tony Dine lets us know the various groups of people who don’t tip, and this post about the businessmen nails it right on the head. Just because they have “better” jobs than us doesn’t mean they don’t have to tip! YOU ALL HAVE TO TIP!

Sometimes taking time off from work lets us see the real beauty of nature, and that frigid beast “snow”. Cameras are fun, and over at El Vermino, so are things that are frozen. Personally, the only frozen things I like are Ice cream and Jello Pudding Pops.

People who say they’re ready to order need to damn well be ready. None of us want to stand there and wait while people sit there browsing! The culprit in question here not only browsed, but had to ask questions about things that weren’t even offered there! Another one that would have pushed me over the edge.

Even the best and most amazing of us have our days, and getting in the weeds because you’re getting blown away is the best way to have a meltdown. At least Amazing had some great backup, most of us don’t even get that.

Finally, here at the RagingServer, I’m realizing that there’s a constant influx in fat people. They eat, and they eat, and they eat more. They drink ranch like it’s a soda, then ask for more. If I ever get as fat as some of my guests, please shoot me.

That’s it for the Christmas edition of “The Round Table”. Next week, Will Work for Tips will be hosting. You can submit your posts there if you want, or it may be randomized. Nobody knows until the host makes the post!

Ribeye