Welcome everyone to another edition of The Round Table.  After a few weeks of not knowing who is hosting, I’m going to get it up for you this time.  I promise I’m working on a new hosting schedule.  Without further ado

Manuel at Well Done Fillet is one regular short this month…and realizes just how much it hits.  We all have those people.

Why would any of us want to open a restaurant, when we like the money we make on the floor?  I call shenanigans on that one.  We make shit on the floor compared to the restaurant owners!  Let’s find out what Bitter thinks the reasoning is for opening a restaurant.

I feel a strong love…deep in my soul right now…for the mighty Bitchy Waitress of At least call me “Miss”….  She’s done something that we all need to be doing, and that’s to defend Ribeye…I mean to educate the public when it comes to restaurant things!  I swear if I wasn’t gay I’d ask for her hand in marriage on that post.

Body language, everyone uses it.  We all have learned what most of it means.  Tony of Dine in or Take out recently made a “study” of body language on a couple of his tables, and the results are fascinating.

One of our newcomers, but by far not a new blogger, Ryan of I Serve Idiots is a favored place to be of many readers.  This past weekend, he tells of an experience he had with a group of Entitlement Junkies…the 18 year old birthday girl and her friends.  I hate them, you hate them, yet we’ve all been a part of those groups.  Is that perhaps why we hate them so much, because we made such fools of ourselves at one time?  He also has a very short post that I cannot help but to throw out there, about people who don’t know what they’re drinking.

Cigars are nasty.  They don’t taste good, they don’t smell good.  Even the highest classes of them are disqueeeeeesting if you want to know.  Snotty men smoke them, they must have developed a taste.  Restaurant Gal hates them too.

Now my teeth suck people, and they suck bad.  I was a moron.  But I was never stupid enough to put faux precious metal in my mouth and think it looked hot, like people that Upset Waitress and every other server has to look at.

Should we chase people who try to dine and dash?  Servers in California shouldn’t, at least not according to WaiterRant.net.  We might get shot at.

Lobster Boy of Red Lobster Blog is pining the decline of the Filet o’ Fish at McDonalds.  There’s no fish for those within Lent.  At least he’s making great money where he works.  Lent is very lucrative there.

Even in hotels, there are discount junkies.  At Feather or Foam, the discount junkies are evil and hateful little bastards.

Finally, here at RagingServer.com, I’m dealing with people who can’t read and who want to bitch about gratuity.  I hate them all, as anyone who has read my posts can tell….why can’t people just be civil?

Be sure to tune in next week for another edition of The Round Table.  I’m hoping I can get Bitter of Bitterwaitress to host next week, if Bitter has time.  Believe me, it’s a lot harder to find time to blog sometimes than you might think.

Ribeye

Consumerist.com recently had a post concerning the new automatic gratuity added to to-go orders at Johnny Rockets, and some of you have asked for my opinions on the matter.

I have a couple of different opinions on this matter if you want to know the truth.  To me, having an automatic gratuity should be done only on parties of 8 or more, in a sit down restaurant, to ensure that the server is compensated for the inevitable load of work they’ll be doing on the one party as opposed to having a number of other tables.

I say that, but then I think about the servers who have to take the to-go orders, box them up, bag them up, fill condiments to send home, and give any little extras the to-go customer demands, all the while they’re supposed to be looking after their own tables.  It’s hard to determine whether your server is taking time out of their tables to get your food set up or if they are on the shift specifically to take and set up call in orders.

If a server is on the shift only for call in orders, they are most likely being paid a good hourly rate knowing that most people won’t tip on that order.  Even with the fabled “Curbside service” at places like Applebees, and O’charleys, and other chains, the server isn’t compensated for their time.  The restaurant knows this, and takes steps to ensure they’re paid for their work.  Other restaurants, like Cracker Barrel and Johnny Rockets, expect their floor servers to take up the burden of overwhelming to-go orders while also trying to juggle their own tables.  When this happens, especially on the weekends when the highest volume of to-go orders are called in, the server will often get themselves “in the weeds” to coin an industry phrase.  They get extremely behind, are not able to focus primarily on their own tables, and as such, their tip can and does suffer.

In the case of Johnny Rockets, I agree with the gratuity, to an extent.  I’m not sure it should be a full 15%.  10% gratuity added to a call in order is something that I wouldn’t complain about.  Other people?  Well, I can’t speak for other people.  I know that some people don’t like the gratuity at all, and most of them wouldn’t care if the server taking the order had to take time out from their own tables to do it or not.

You all know where I stand on people who complain about automatic gratuity, I think they need to shove it.  That’s only for sit down restaurants though.  The people who complain about those auto-grat’s are the ones who won’t tip regardless of the level of service.  Complaining about an auto-grat on a take out order is okay, depending on the amount of the gratuity.

The woman who wrote into the Consumerist in the first place was right to complain about the gratuity, unless it was posted visibly on either their take out menu, or somewhere in the restaurant.  If it was posted, then she needs to not whine, she knew what she was getting into.

Ribeye

No really, nothing anyone can do is going to get me in a bad mood.  At least…that’s what the plan is. 

This weekend has been pure and utter Hell, dealing with the trash that’s seemed to come straight from the crack house, so I figure today has GOT to be different.  It can’t be all bad, 100% of the time, so tonight, no matter what people do to me, I’m going to stay in a good mood.  At least on the surface.

This weekend has really made me think though…I bluster on and on about how I’m not a racist, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m just fooling myself.  All weekend I wanted to slaughter my guests, and 90% of them were ghetto black folks. Don’t get me wrong, there were some white and Hispanic guests there too, but it was mostly Black-Americans that were treating everyone like shit, even the black servers.  Nobody made money this weekend, and we all wondered why.  We all treated these guests the same as anyone else, I even had fun with a bunch of them.  It didn’t matter, they still didn’t want to tip.

 Enough of this, I’m already putting myself in a bad mood.  It’s going to be different tonight.  All the Memphis and TSU people have gone home, and we’re going to have our normal ghetto trash, the ghetto trash that we’re used to.  We’ll have our normal rednecks and hicks, the ones who come in for a race and leave 2 days later after drinking a few cases of Bud. 

And we’ll make the normal decent money we make on a Sunday. 

I’ve been told that next month, TSU is going to have another event at our establishment like they did last year for the Homecoming fiasco.  If this is the case, you can count me out.  I’m already planning on refusing to work their Homecoming event this fall, when they buy the building out again.  I had enough of that shit the first time around, and if I ever get spit on again, I’m going to end up in jail.

I’m probably going to have another “Stupid Names” post up tonight, after this weekend I have plenty to spare. 

Please come back soon, and enjoy what I have to offer.  RagingPartner will soon have a new blog up, something to do with Hotels, and we’ll have that to share with you. 

Ribeye

Every fucking night, it happens.  People are either too stupid to look and see that the door they’re going out has a big alarm on it, and says in big red fucking letters “EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY”, or they just can’t read, but they go out the door and set off the alarm.  Loud shrill whistling until a manager can get to the door and use their key to turn it off.

Tonight, I finally had it!  Toward the end of the night, the fucking door alarm goes off again.  I’d already had a really fucking ghetto night, which put me in a foul mood, so as soon as I heard the alarm, I nearly ran toward the emergency exit to try and catch the fools who went out.

The sight I came upon was a ghetto white girl with her nappy headed boyfriend and their little ghettolings.  Crackawhoria, ghetto momma, was holding the door open for her spawn and her man.  I lost it.  Plain and simple, I lost it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing to goddamned moron?” I shout over the sound of the games as I stalk over to them. “Are you too goddamned stupid to be able to read the sign?  Do you just not fucking care how this fucking sound gets on everyones nerves?”

Crackawhoria started to talk, “Why you gotta yell fo’, we ain’ kno dis was gon’ happen?”

“You ain’ kno dis was gon’ happen?  What the fuck did your dumbass think was going to happen?  IT’S A FUCKING EMERGENCY EXIT YOU FUCKING TWIT!  How bout you and your family get your asses back in here while I call the cops for you causing a false alarm?”

They fled, cussing me out as they went.  I gave their descriptions to mall security.

It’s been a really long and cheap weekend so far.  Only Sunday left to go, and hopefully it’ll be a little better than today and yesterday went.

I had a bitch and her man sit down.

“Hey there guys, how are you tonight?”  I ask as I’m setting beverage napkins in front of them.  Neither of them answer me.  “Is it just going to be the two of you tonight?”

“We gots two mo’ comin, brang us some mo’ menu.”  Says Qweenyattara, flipping her weavie braids in my face.  Her man, with his nappy assed cornrows, looks at me, “Brang me a henny and coke.”

“Right away, just need to see your ID.”

“Why da fuck I gotta brang my ID back out, I done shown it ta get in da doh!”

“Because without it, I can’t serve you any alcohol.”  Turns out, he didn’t have his id, so he didn’t get a drink.

A few minutes later, the table next to theirs gets up.  I see Qweenyatarra jump to the table.  “Are you guys having a few more than just 4 coming?” I ask as I drop off their water and lemon.

“We got about 10 mo’ comin ovah.”  Ten.  How the fuck are 12 people going to fit into two booths made for 8 people?  I didn’t care at that point, as I was going on break.

When I returned from my break, the total between the 12 people was 140 bucks.  I had a gratuity put on the check.  The first two checks paid out, and either didn’t notice the gratuity or weren’t going to tip anyway.  This left the original 2 people sitting at the table.  I bring their check out.  As I start to walk off, Qweenyatarra grabbed my arm.

“Take your hands off of me, RIGHT now, ma’am.”

“Why is you got dis large party chahge on ouah check?” she says, without taking her hands off my arm.

“Because you were part of a large party.”

“Well I ain’ gon’ pay dis shit!  Der ain’ nobody else sittin heah at da table.”

I get the manager to the table, and he argues with them for a few minutes.  He finally takes the grat off, telling me that if they don’t tip then he will comp something to compensate.  They left me exact change, the change being in pennies and nickels.

The above situation happened more than once this weekend, not all of them involving having a gratuity taken off the bill.  Most of the time it was just some fucking assholes that wanted to run me like a dog then stiff me.

Fuck all of you that came into town from Memphis this weekend, and Fuck all of you from TSU.  I hope you all burn in Hell for the way you treated us this weekend, and I hope you never come back.

Ribeye

Hey everyone, and welcome to another fun edition of our Poll Results. This past week, I wanted to know your childhood dreams…or at least what you wanted to be when you grew up.

Here are the results:

• Teacher! (25%, 24 Votes)
• Doctor! (19%, 18 Votes)
• Astronaut! (14%, 14 Votes)
• President! (12%, 12 Votes)
• Lawyer! (11%, 11 Votes)
• Slum Lord! (9%, 9 Votes)
• Policeman/woman! (5%, 5 Votes)
• Fireman! (3%, 3 Votes)
• Senator! (1%, 1 Votes)

Interesting results…I wonder how many people just answered to Slum Lord because it was there =).

And now for this weeks edition of….

Stupid Names of the Week!!

This week, we have a family edition.  Lets start with the mother, Terigaka…almost like Teriyaki.

Then we have the kids.  The oldest son, Deshod, the middle son, Deshaund

The daughters?  Deshaundray and Deshaudra.

That’s it for this weeks edition of the Poll results and stupid names of the week.  Come back next week for more ignunce!

Ribeye