Tonight was a slow night, at least in my area. Overall the guests were awesome, I made decent for the lack of business, and nobody really upset me until my last table.

Deflaqueeta and her two friends Sharequia and Luscious came in while I happened to be giving the bartender a break, and we’d just cut 1 of the three servers we had on. When they sat down, I kinda hollered with a smile on my face that I’d be right with them. They looked like nice girls, I figured they’d understand.

Oh how wrong I was.

I got to the table after about 5 minutes of taking care of the bar guests, and the first thing out of Deflaqueeta’s fat assed mouth was : “What ya’ll gon’ be doin fo’ my guh’ burfday?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t actually do anything for birthdays here. Can I get you all a couple of drinks to start you off?”

“What you mean you don’ do nuffin fa burfdays? We was heah a monf ago and my otha guh got a cake!”

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry but we haven’t offered any type of birthday deal, celebration, or dessert in the entire two years I’ve been employed here. Would you all like to see our drink menu, get a couple of shots to start the birthday off right?” I’m still trying to be nice to this heifer, despite the fact that I hate it when people whine that we won’t be singing or bringing dessert for free.

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Talk about getting my ass kicked.  I’ve worked the bars at my job before, just never by myself on a Saturday night before.  The only time I’ve been busier was on the various Super Bowl Sundays.  Don’t get me wrong, the money was great, but I just don’t know about dealing with that type of guest.

I got to work the bowling bar this past Saturday.  Let me rephrase that.  I was thrown headfirst into the bowling bar this past Saturday.  I now realize what the bartenders go through on a full time basis and I probably won’t bitch at them or about them as much as I used to.

First thing I had to deal with on the bar, only on a much higher scale than I do on the floor:  the “How much do dat drank cost?” syndrome.  If there was a woman sitting at the bar, it was a sure bet that if they were younger than 30 they were going to ask how much everything was.  I have to wonder if I was just being hateful to some of them out of spite, or out of my being weeded out.

“How much do a shot of Henny be.”
“Close to 10 bucks.”
“That’s do damn much!  How much fo’ a cosmo?”
“Close to 9 bucks.”
“What about dat’  signature drink I’m not naming here, how much do dat cost?”
“I’m sorry, honey but I don’t have time to give you the prices of every drink.  Pick something and take your chances or drink a coke.”

and the next one

“How much fo’ a Millah lite?”
“Do you want a bottle or draft?”
“Well what da best deal?”
“The one that tastes good to you.  They’re all more than 3 dollars.”
“Well how much da big one?”
“Are you actually going to order if I tell you?”

and finally, a classic:

“How much Patron is?”
“10 bucks.”
“How much do Remy cost?”
“If you have to ask then you can’t afford it.”

I thought the other bartenders were just…exaggerating when they talked about the price check epidemic.  I dealt with it on the floor, but never in such vast numbers.

I’ve also gotten to see what it’s like dealing with cocktails that are in the weeds waiting for drinks.  The funny thing is, I’ve now been on both sides of that equation, and I have learned that it pretty much sucks either way.  I don’t like waiting for a bartender when they’re in the weeds, neither do I like listening to the cocktails whine about waiting when I’m in the weeds.  I kind of snapped at a couple of them Saturday night, didn’t really mean to but I was slaughtered with a full bar 2 people deep most of the night, and I was alone.  Both of the other bars in the building had 3 people working in each one, they didn’t have the problems I did.

People who ordered food from the bar then left the bar to get a lane or pool table were pretty much screwed.  It’s really hard to leave a full bar to check the kitchen for an appetizer, and I’m sorry, I’m not rushing to the back to find out where your appetizer is so that it comes out before your entree.  You’re sitting at a full bar with one bartender, drink your drink and eat your wings.  Don’t think you’re going to get full service like you’re sitting at a table, it’s just not going to happen when the bartender is busy.

Not much more involving the bar shift to talk about, other than I was exhausted when I got home and my back hurt.   About the same as working a floor shift if you want to know the truth.  At least I didn’t have to look up the recipe’s for any drink but one.  Makes me wonder what this Saturday is going to be like.

Ribeye

Well, there’s been a few shifts lately employee-wise, and a couple of people who have fucked up at work. The infamous Hawk from posts long past is no longer with us, neither is BlondeAmber as of last night (ya’ll didn’t hear about her, she’d only been there a couple of weeks and wasn’t worth posting about till now). A couple of managers have left, we have a new one that’s cool as Hell, and the bartender that I had an issue with for reasons that will remain unposted (at least for now) is now gone as well. Things seem to be going a bit better at my job.

I’ll be completely done with my paperwork for shift leading in a few days even though I’ve been doing it for months, I’m bartending one shift a week; I want more but this is a start. I’m still training, and working with the training manager to change the format a bit to what it’s supposed to be from the shell that it is now.

Blowjob Barbie is starting to show some big improvements according to management, and I’ve seen some of it myself. She’s no longer against doing running sidework…at least not all the time, and she’s showing signs that she’s able to work with others and not as a force unto herself. One of the managers made it clear to her that there are servers with authority above her that have the unfortunate job of enforcing the rules and telling her what to do. She didn’t like it but it’s my understanding that she wasn’t given a choice; she’s to do what she’s asked/told to do and bitch about our attitudes to the manager later.

As this is another long post, “hit the jump” for the rest!

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You’ve all probably been wondering where the post explaining the pregnant woman poll has been. Well, after the results, you’ll see the reasons for the poll.

Should servers have the right to deny alcohol service to pregnant women?

• I’m on the fence: I don’t agree with pregnant women drinking, but I don’t agree with denying something legal either. (43%, 99 Votes)
• Yes, servers should be allowed to deny alcohol service if they feel it will be unsafe. (29%, 67 Votes)
• No, it’s not the servers place to dictate how a woman chooses to treat her unborn child (11%, 25 Votes)
• No, if they are legal the women should be allowed to drink what they want, pregnant or not (10%, 23 Votes)
• Yes, women should not be able to put the baby’s life at risk, especially if they chose to continue the pregnancy (8%, 18 Votes)

Most of you are on the fence about this issue and that’s quite understandable.  Many doctors tell pregnant women that one glass of wine or one beer a day is good for them.  I wasn’t as specific as that with this poll, and maybe I should have been.

I had a guest last week that was almost 8 months pregnant.  Legally, here in TN, a server cannot deny a pregnant woman alcohol if she is legal and not already intoxicated.  We can’t deny her alcohol just because she is a pregnant woman, no matter if we have a moral or ethical issue with it.

This woman was not ordering just a glass of wine or a bottle of beer.  This woman started out her night with a Jager Bomb.  During the two hours they were at my table, I served this woman the Jager Bomb, two Long Island Iced Teas, and a shot of house tequila.  That’s just the stuff that I served her.  I was told that if I refused to serve her that I could be fired for discrimination.  Nobody else would take the table from me, and I couldn’t get a manager to pick it up.

After they cashed out, leaving me nothing on their 70 dollar bill, fucking redneck scum, she had her boyfriend get her about 5 more drinks from the bar.  I tried to tell the bartender that they were going to a pregnant woman, who by that time was starting to get lit, but they didn’t listen.  She went outside to smoke about 9-10 times, don’t know how many she smoked but it was at least 9.  She was quite loud in asking the other girl at the table for a xanax (after cashing out, that would have given me a reason to deny her service), so she was taking nerve pills on top of all the alcohol.

This is why I made the poll.  I was fuming by the time this scum left my restaurant, and I could do nothing about it.  Had I been in the mood to lose my job, I would have said something to her, but I can’t really afford to lose that job.  The other job doesn’t provide enough income to survive on.

I’m all for a woman’s right to choose.  I’m all for the one glass of wine or beer during pregnancy if they really want one.  Hell, I don’t even care if the woman smokes.  I’m almost sure my mom smoked when she was pregnant with me.  This bitch was going overboard, however, and it made me want to hurt her.  I can only hope that she’s not doing this on a regular basis because that child will be born with fetal alcohol syndrome if it’s not stillborn.  What she did was criminal, and the laws that say we can’t deny a woman alcohol based on pregnancy need to be fine tuned a bit.

This bitch is the reason that I started the poll.

I’d appreciate your opinions on this, elaborated from your answers on the poll.  I’m curious to know the reasons for your answers.  I can see why most of you would give the “on the fence” answer and once again, that’s my fault for not being more clear.

The Restaurant Customer Stereotype series will return tomorrow, and Ghetto names of the week will be back next week.  I’m also trying to find the time to call a young news producer of a radio station to set up an interview, something that was offered to me a month and a half ago.  That’s the lack of time I’ve got right now, as I was supposed to call her last week.  I’ll make sure to let you all know when it’s set up, and where you’ll be able to hear it.

Thanks as always, and keep coming.  I’m not getting as much posted but I’m doing the best I can!

Ribeye

As you all know from a couple of posts ago, I had a “fun” weekend last week.  Issues with the Expo line, stupid guests, lots of little slutty looking girls that didn’t look old enough to drive much less act like they were and wear what they did.  I saw more camel toes last weekend than I have the entire time at the “Restaurant that shant be named”.  Last Friday night, much like most of the recent Friday nights, I ended up in the bowling/billiard areas of my job.  I hate being in those areas on the weekends because they get even more people who’ve caught the dumbass than normal.  At least in the game room there are still some normal people.

One of my first tables of the night provided a great deal of happiness for me.  Not because they left me a big tip (they didn’t leave anything for me except a complaint), but because they thought they were smarter than I was.

Approaching the table, I see a foreign looking couple.  From a distance they look to be Latin but when I got closer I could see they were Kurds.  Everyone knows that I hate serving Kurds because they don’t tip for shit, but I couldn’t get out of it.  That early in the shift, it was just me on the floor.  Trying not to groan as I walked up to them, I put the most fake smile I possibly could onto my face.   “Hey guys, how ya’ll doing this afternoon.”  I use my hick accent to it’s fullest advantage sometimes, namely because tourists love it.  I used it this time because I was in a mood.

“We tursty,” the guy said with his heavy accent.  I always wonder if Kurdish people just can’t pronounce the th sound or if they’re just trying to be smart.  I wonder the same thing about many black people when it comes to the word ask.

“Well sir, it’s Happy Hour if you would like to get something from our bar.”  I’m still pouring it on even though I’m starting to think I’ve waited on these two before, the girl has really bushy and long red hair and she looks very familiar.

“Bring me someting….exotic,” Adawallah responds.  I decide to bring him something fruity.

“That’s no problem sir, I just need to see your ID first.  And ma’am, what would you like to drink this afternoon?”  I ask, turning to Amatullah of the Bushy Hair and grabbing Adawallah’s ID all at once.

“Bring me shot of Bailey’s.”  If nothing else, these mother fuckers were concise.  No please, no Can I have?, no I would like.  Just Bring this now!  I hate that attitude.

“Would you like that straight up or on the rocks, ma’am?”

“On rocks.”

“Have you got your ID on you, ma’am?”  I ask, somehow already knowing the answer.  She might have long and bushy hair, but Amatullah certainly did not look to be any older than 14 years of age.  She starts digging through her pockets, all one and a half of them, for her ID and manages to fish out a debit card.  She hands me the debit card and tells me “We want start tab,” then goes back to playing her game.

“Ma’am, I would certainly love to start a tab for the two of you but I cannot serve your Bailey’s without seeing your ID first.”

“It must be in car,” she says while racking the next game of pool.

“Would you like to go get it?”  I asked, wondering if she really expected me to bring her drink without it.

“Just go ahead and bring her drink, you see my ID already,” Adawallah chimes in.

I turn to him, “I can’t serve her a drink until I see her ID for it.  Would you like to go and get it from the car for her or does she just not have one?”

“It is in car.  Bring her drink and we get ID later.”

“No, sir, I can’t do that.  Ma’am, would you like me to bring you a coke or tea for now?”  I ask.  I can see the look of hate in her eyes, she knows I know she’s not legal now.

“No, I will be fine.”  That’s quite fine with me.  I go and get his drink and drop it off.  I hang around for a minute to see if they want anything to munch on while they play.  They don’t order anything, and are even shorter with me than they were to begin with.  I guess I really did piss them off.

I decide to keep an eye on them while they play, knowing that she is going to drink out of his drink.  At that time of the day, my only guests are in the billiard room so hanging around to keep an eye on them isn’t a real problem.  I wander through every few minutes or so, mostly making it look like I’m cleaning, occasionally checking on other guests.  Finally, I catch this bitch with the drink in her hand.  I let the manager know, who says she needs to see it before I can take it.  I tell her that she has to keep an eye on them then, and let someone else answer manager calls for a few minutes.

When I go back to check on them again, she’s had more of his drink and it’s a little over half empty.  “Ya’ll doing alright over here?” I ask.

“I no like this drink, I want someting else,” Adawallah tells me, holding it up and shaking it a little.

“That’s fine, sir, let me take this one out of your way then.” I reach out to grab the first drink, and he pulls it away from me.

“I will keep this.”

“But sir, if you don’t like it then why would you want to keep and pay for it?  I’ll just take it out of your way for you and you won’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Bring me Bailey’s on rocks and I will finish this one.”  When he orders the Bailey’s a red flag pops up in my head and I respond accordingly.

“Sir, I’m not bringing you a shot of Bailey’s, I’m sorry.”  I make to grab the first drink again and he pulls it away from me again.

“Why not?” he asks me with a knowing smile on his face.

“I’m not bringing it because it’s the exact same drink that she ordered, and she has failed to produce proper ID for me.  I’ll gladly bring you something else, but I’m not going to bring a drink that you’re clearly going to give to her.”

He doesn’t try to order another drink, and as I walk off, I guess just to piss me off even more, I see the girl pick up the fruity drink and take a big swallow from it.  Seeing that, I go and grab my manager again.  I let her know what’s going on, and that I’m not going to serve him a shot of Bailey’s that is going to go directly down his girlfriends throat.  She goes and speaks with the guests and comes back.  She tells me that the guy made it quite clear the Bailey’s was for him, and that she made it quite clear that his girlfriend had to have ID to drink and if she was caught drinking out of either the fruity drink I served first, or the Bailey’s that was about to be served, that I would be removing both drinks, they would pay for both drinks, they would pay for their billiards, and they would leave the building.

I don’t like being told I have to serve a guest alcohol, especially when it’s my liquor license on the line if something happens but out of respect for the manager and the fact that TN is a Right to Hire/Fire state, I went ahead and did it.  At least I knew that I’d be able to snatch a drink from them, and that made me happy.

I dropped the Bailey’s off with them and started the waiting game.  I hovered for a little while, let the front desk employees know what was going on, and let the other cocktail servers know what was going on.  If this bitch so much as picked the drink up, they were to let me know so I could take it away from them.

She avoided it for a while,  even when she didn’t know I was watching.  For a split second I wondered if he really did order it for himself, being that he was the only one drinking it.  Then I noticed something:  I noticed that the drink was never getting shorter despite him bringing it to his lips a number of times.  That just made me more diligent.  I had to serve a couple of guests in bowling during this, so I didn’t have my eyes on her the entire time, but when I was up at the host stand, I glanced over to see her pick up the drink and try to kill it.  I nearly ran over to them to get it away before she finished it.  I was happy to notice that when I got there, the straw was still at her lips and I was in time.

I grabbed the drink from her as she was sucking it out of the straw, and it splashed all over her.  That brought me a certain amount of satisfaction.  “What you doing?” she shouted at me.

“You were already told by both myself and my manager that you had to have your ID to drink.  You failed to show either of us a proper form of ID.  You were also told that if you were caught drinking that you would have to pay your tab, pay for your pool and leave.  I’m going to need you to pay for your drinks now.  Would you like to use the credit card I’m holding or would you like to pay cash?”

“We pay cash,” Adawallah said, stepping in front of her before she had a chance to say anything else to me.  He held out a 20 dollar bill to me.  I took it and went to get his change.  I put his change and the credit card I’d been holding on to into a check presenter and left it with them, telling them they had 10 minutes to leave the premises.  I then went to clock out for a break and smoke.  I almost made it out the back door when a manager stops me and pulls me back in.  The guest has stopped at the host stand to bitch about me and accuse me of stealing their credit card.  Manager B the Wise is getting the third degree from these assholes, and I actually feel kind of sorry for him.  I don’t like dealing with them either!  I run back up to the front, and let Manager B the Wise know that their credit card was in the check book that I’d put the change into.  They got their card, almost pissed off that I hadn’t stolen it and given them a reason to bitch at me.

Too bad I was in the right with the situation.  Everyone knows how much of a hardass I am about checking ID.  I’m not letting anyone else slide, so why am I going to let someone who looks like they’re still a teenager slide?  I’m not losing my job over something stupid.

Ribeye