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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“Excruse me, Lemme axe you a quersson. Is ya’ll be havin’ a fawnction fa da Gawspel peoples?”

The actual translation to that, I believe is: Excuse me, let me ask you a question. Are you holding a function for the Gospel people?

I’m very sorry, but the only thing worse than the Gospel Christians in my book are the white Christians. They always sing in your presence, they’re fucking loud and annoying, they can rarely speak proper English (see also, Title of the Post), and they always want to try and remake your menu.

The woman mentioned in the title of the post wasn’t necessarily a bad person…at least not at first. It was later in the night when I encountered her, well after the “Gospah funkon” had begun. There were 300 people scheduled to attend, and they only ordered food for 150. The other 150 had to come get their own food from the actual dining areas as opposed to the buffet’s set up for their use. I saw this one as she came in from the mall, and from the start, I didn’t want to serve her.

First, she had the little name badge that people in conventions tend to wear, worn around her neck. Second, she was wearing one of the most floral printed, bright pink with red and orange, barely containing the body it surrounded for how large she was, ugly as sin dress that I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness outside of a video taped, made for television, third hand B horror movie; it was that bad. Third, she had so much weave piled atop her head that it made us all wonder how she managed to keep her neck from breaking under the strain. It was like she had wrapped the “hair” around various different cups of varying sizes and topped it off with an ugly feather. She wasn’t really old, maybe late 30’s, she was just really weird scary. For the purposes of this post, we’ll call her LaFreelianna (from the wrong number that called and left a message on my voicemail today).   Read the rest of this post “After the Jump” as they say, as it’s quite long.

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I’ve never in the nearly two years that I’ve worked for “the Restaurant that Cannot be Named” had a more horrible night than I had this past Sunday.  I was stiffed, I was maimed, I was harassed, I was yelled at, I was stiffed, I was stiffed, I was stiffed.  I was so pissed off at one point that I was ready to walk out the door and not look back but I stayed…

The first of the night went great.  I had awesome tables, was making great tips, made a couple of new friends who came back to see me tonight.  It was after 8 o’clock that I started having problems.

First problem table came in the form of three really ghetto black guys that reeked of weed.  From the time I went to the table, they had attitude problems with me.  I didn’t even have a chance to introduce myself or anything before the first one, LemonJelo with the nappy braids sticking out of his head like the snakes of Medusa, looks at me and says, “You da waidah?  Brang three Hen and Coke ovah,” and tries to wave me away.  “No problem, sir, I just need to see three ID’s.”  You’d have thought I just blew up their cars for the looks they gave me.

“Why you gotta see dem fo?” OranJello asked.  “Because I have to see an ID from anyone who is drinking alcohol or I’m not allowed to serve them.”  One by one, the three pulled out their state issued ID cards out.  Only one of them turned out to be 21.  “I’m sorry guys, I can’t serve the two of you,” I said, handing them back their cards, “Can I bring you a coke or something?”

“You can brang dey Hennessey like I ask.”  LemonJello said, starting to get pissed off.  “I can’t serve them any alcohol because they’re not 21 and I don’t want to get fired.”

“Jus brang da damn dranks, dude, we ain’ gon’ tell nobody!”  The third guy, Cheeto said.  “Sir, I’m not going to serve you, there’s no point in continuing to ask.  I’ll gladly bring you something non-alcoholic, but nothing from the bar.”

“Man, fuck you, we ain’ gotta take dis bullshit, we drank heah all da time!  Dis jus cuz we black.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with your being black, this has to do with me wanting to keep my job and not serve someone who’s underage.  If you continue to talk to me like that, you’ll be escorted out of here.  Now, do you want something to drink or not?”  They got up and left.

The next two tables weren’t hateful or anything, they were just cheap bastards.  I had to clean up three spills from one womans little groin spawn who couldn’t have been more than 2 years old and who shouldn’t have been sitting without a booster seat to begin with.  Her mother decided to let her drink from a regular cup, claiming “My baby don’t need no kiddie cup, she a big girl now.” I tried to prove otherwise by bringing a kids cup anyway, only to have her set it aside and let the brat try to drink out of her cup.  Three times she spilled it, and her lazy mother refused to even try to clean it up.  She just waved me over.  They left me nothing.

The next table of the night had to be the worst one of all, and while they were there a couple of regulars that I love came in.  They were black, and yes, the race matters and you’ll see why after I tell you about this table.

It started out a woman and her two kids.  I’ll name then LaSqueeshia (mother), ShaMarion (son), and Qualatisha (daughter).  The son and daughter were real names, I didn’t find out the mothers real name.  Anyway, they sat down at one of my tables and started waving me over while I was taking an order from another group.  I tried to ignore them so I could answer questions for my table, and LaSqueeshia started yelling quite loudly “Can we get a servah ovah heah?  We been waitin fa 10 minutes already.”  They hadn’t even been sitting for 2 minutes, much less 10.  I finished my order and put it in, then grabbed some bev-naps and went to my new table.

“Sorry for the wait, everyone, how are you tonight?”  I asked as cheerfully as I possibly could.

“We done ate dinnah, we jus came ta have some dessert.” LaSqueeshia said.  “What all ya’ll got?”  I picked up the menu and opened it to the dessert page, and pointed out a couple of the good ones.  “Do dat cake get some ice cream?” she asked, pointing at a chocolatey delight.  “No ma’am, but you can get some ice cream with it for 75 cents extra and believe me, it goes great with that cake.”

“Why we gotta pay exkra if it tase good wit it?”  one of the kids asked.  “Because the ice cream doesn’t come with it, so you have to pay for it if you want it.”

They ended up ordering a big dessert that they could share, two waters and a sprite.  They stayed for an hour, with momma on the phone most of the time.  More of the family showed up, including two ugly women with the wrong weave in.  After about 45 minutes of my checking on them and them not answering me, I went and printed their check out and drop it off.   Since they hadn’t asked for it, I stopped by the table behind theirs to see if everything was okay, it was a party of 6 from out of town and I was chatting with them, just having a good time with them trying to get a tip.  For the record, this also was a table of black people.  As we were talking, one of the bitches from the dessert table turns around and looks at me, and yells “We ready ta go, CHECK PLEASE!”  I looked up and held up my hand in an ‘I’ll be there in just a second’ gesture.  I stayed with the table for a couple of minutes longer and told them I’d be right back.

I walked the few steps to LaSqueeshia’s table.  “Hey there, ladies, how was everything tonight?”  None of them bothered to answer me.  “Are we all done with this?” I asked, pointing to the dessert.  The woman who’d yelled at me waved it away and kept yapping on the phone.  I took the plate and told them I’d be back to take care of the check whenever they were ready, and went back to what I was doing.  My regulars were sitting across from them and the 6 top was still sitting on the table behind theirs.   I went by to chat with my regulars, who’ve been my regulars for close to a year now, and was talking to them for a few minutes.

While I’m talking to them, I suddenly hear the same hateful voice that yelled for the check, “We ready ta pay, why you ain’ comin ovah heah!”  I told my guests that I’d be back in a second and went back to my bitches.  “All ready to go, ladies?”

“You bettah brang us back every penny of da change,” she replied.  “No problem at all, ma’am, just give me a moment to cash this out.”  I walked away.  The check was 11 and some change.  I wasn’t hateful toward these women at all, I answered their questions happily and they were just hateful the whole time.  So in the end, I made sure they got exact change.  6 of it was in dollar bills, the rest in quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies.  “Ladies, be careful with the book theres a bit of coin change loose inside.” I said with a minor smile on my face, and walked off to my regulars again.

I sat talking to them for a little while.  Their names are Deborah and Leonard, they’re an awesome middle aged couple with two kids, one in high school and one about to start college.  They have a bit of ghetto to them but they tip, they’re nice, and I have had fun with them since the first time they came in.  Being that I’d only had problems with black tables that night, I asked them honestly, “Am I doing something different with my black guests and not realizing it?  Why is it these people are treating me so bad tonight?”  I honestly don’t believe that I treat black guests any different than white, mexican or any other race of guests, and neither did Deborah and Leonard.

Deborah replied, “I didn’t notice anything different from how you served your other tables, why do you ask?”  I told her about the other tables, and how I’d been stiffed 6 times already through the night and it was all from black guests.  She was shocked, and I asked again, “I just really need to know if I’m doing something to deserve it or make them think I don’t want to be serving them!”  They assured me that there was nothing wrong with my service, but I still wasn’t reassured.

The guests that I had to serve Sunday night were most assuredly reenforcing the stereotype of blacks in restaurants and it really pissed me off that I was the one having to deal with it!  I don’t consider myself a racist by any means, but after Sunday night I was seriously close to losing both my temper and my beliefs.  Sunday night is the reason that servers in the majority don’t want to serve black guests.  I haven’t let it change me though; I still welcome any and all guests in the hopes of getting a tip from them and that will never change, but after getting stiffed so many times in one night from one racial group only, and being told by guests of that same group that I did nothing wrong in my service, I at one point threw down my swipe card, yelled that I was going on break and I didn’t care who watched my section and I stormed out the back door to smoke and calm down.

Oh, and the party of 6 from out of town that I had so much fun with left me nearly 40 bucks on a 130 dollar bill,  didn’t know anything about any of the other guests that had stiffed me during the night, were black and awesome.  I treated them the exact same as the other 6 tables.  Was it just something different about the people in general?

Maybe I just need a vacation…by the way, if you consider me a racist because of this post, I hate it.  I am only telling about my night, and hopefully showing you that although some black guests do perpetuate the stereotype, they’re still not all bad no matter how many bad seeds you have to deal with in one night.  I still made a hundred bucks Sunday night, despite my stress.  I can however see why most servers feel the way they do about black guests because it’s painfully obvious that even if you do nothing wrong, the majority of them still don’t tip.

Ribeye

Before I start, let me assure everyone that I have no issue whatsoever with those who come from or have relatives in Croatia. It just happens to be the place the following “server” comes from.

Croatian Barbie, aka, “Blowjob Barbie”, was hired maybe two months ago. I taught a couple of her training classes and from the start she just didn’t impress me. First off, she spent the majority of the class trying to text people without my knowing until I finally snapped at both her and the been gone for a while “CokeFiend, NeverShutsUp Barbie” about it. She failed her tests numerous times, and from training she’d already learned the delicate art of restaurant rumor starting. Fun chick. I took comfort in the fact that this bitch wasn’t going to be part of the cocktail staff.

Her first few weeks weren’t fun for the rest of her team. They quickly learned that Croatian Barbie was not one for following the rules being constantly on her phone or texting while walking through the dining room. They found that they were often picking up her slack when it came to the running sidework as picking up an ice bin or stocking glasses might harm her delicate hands. Managers and Shift Leaders alike tried time and time again to make her understand that tray service, while not fun, is also not optional. It was even overheard one night her responding to a SL with “Do it yourself!” when asked to fill the ice bin.

Within three weeks, Croatian Barbie had attached herself to a young, black American man who shall remain nameless. Once that began, not only did she not perform as part of the team, she and her newfound beau would vanish together for 10 and 15 minutes at a time, tables and teammates left wondering what was going on.

Croatian Barbie decided during her first few weeks that she was just too good to be a dining room server. She picked up a few cocktail shifts, and me and the rest of my teammates also noticed the rampant cellphone usage and laziness. We dealt with it because it was only a couple of shifts here, a couple of shifts there.

Croatian Barbie had other plans. Somehow, she hoodwinked the Powers that Be into letting her transfer from the dining room to the cocktail staff. Thanks just so very much, Powers that Be, you’ve screwed me again!

Since she joined my team, she’s proven that she can handle a few tables at a time which is a good thing. She’s also shown that she’s utterly worthless. I’ve never in my life seen anyone use a service station as an armrest as much as she does. She refuses to carry a tray, she refuses to do running sidework unless she hasn’t got a choice in the matter, and she’s become a table thief. In the time she’s been a cocktail I’ve also noticed (being forced to work the same shifts as she) that she doesn’t know how to ring things into the computer despite my teaching her a class on how to do just that. This makes for interesting weekends when we get busy and her tables wonder where their food has gone.

A couple of weeks ago, she came in wearing her hair in pigtails. Her hair is quite long, and at the time had a reddish/purple tint to it. The pigtails were held up with ribbons, and with her top button unbuttoned the way she does to show off her tits, it made her look every bit the 18 year old slut. Her actions with the younger more attractive male guests also show a slutty aspect to her personality. Back to the day in question. There was a guest that couldn’t find her. He wandered around, asking us where she was at because he wanted another beer. Finally, he gave up and was headed for the bar where the one bartender was a little busy. As she was making her way around to the guy, Blowjob Barbie ran up to him and asked if he wanted another one. She then proceeded to serve the guest that had now sat down at the bar. It was later discovered that the man had already closed his tab with Blowjob Barbie and he was now an actual bar guest. We’re not allowed to serve the guests who sit at the bar except under extreme circumstances, and it pisses the bartenders off when we do it anyway. The bartender wasn’t going to take her guest being stolen lying down as she needs money just like everyone else, so she confronts BJ Barbie about it and let her know she can’t take guests from the bar like that.

This is her response: “Everyone wants to order their drinks from me because I have the prettiest face back here!” Let me describe this face to you a little. Being Croatian, she has a bit darker skin tone than most Caucasian people. She adds to this by putting on about a pound and a half of makeup, making her resemble a clown. She has a hint of Asian in her eyes and puts eyeliner on the outside corners of both eyes because “I look like an Egyptian Princess” yet it really just makes her look goofy. The guys apparently tend to like her because of the width of her mouth, nobody wants to actually talk to her. She has braces so her teeth aren’t bad (we all know mine suck so I’m not gonna say anything about hers). She really just looks like a 16 year old that’s trying too hard.

Last week and this week have by far been the worst. Last Wednesday, I somehow got stuck with just her and one of the other…not so work ethically inclined…cocktails. Just the three of us. I was closing/shift leading. Once again, she refused to do anything to help the team and spent most of her night either on the phone or in her mans lap. At the end of the night, she wasn’t happy because she was still there around closing time when she was supposed to have gotten off. I gave her the silverware count and she set off. When she returned, I picked a couple of them up like I do with everyone and I noticed that they were horribly dirty. We have to wash, rack, wash, and polish (or soak then polish) our silverware before we roll it. I looked at her for a minute in disbelief, then went to find Manager G the Fuckin Great because Manager just doesn’t like her and he’s as anal as I am about silverware.

“Manager G, how should I tactfully tell someone I want them to re-roll their entire bin of silverware because they didn’t polish a single piece?”

“Who are you talking about?” he asked.

“Blowjob Barbie,” I replied.

“Hold on.” He put down his rag, and went flying from behind the bar to see what I was talking about. We opened up a couple of them together so he could see what I was talking about. He didn’t say anything else to me, just took the pan of silverware to the table she was cleaning. I don’t know exactly what was said but she took it back to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she came back. At first glance, the silverware looked like it’d been cleaned, however when I opened a couple, they were still horrible. Back to Manager G and she was hot. She had to take them all apart, polish each piece and reroll it. That’s when she learned that her shit wasn’t going to be tolerated.

The weekend went by with her being as lazy as usual. Then we come to Sunday night. Sunday night, I was again closing, and I was again stuck with her. All night long, I asked her to pitch in and help out with running sidework. Every server had something assigned to them but we were in a groove and working together. It was a pretty good night except for her. She just ignored me when I would ask her to do anything. “Blowjob Barbie, can you get ice?” “Blowjob Barbie, can you stock glasses?” “Blowjob Barbie, you can’t leave your tables for the busser, we only have one tonight. You need to get them clean and reset and ready to go.” Ten minutes later, “Blowjob Barbie, go bus and reset that table!” Still nothing. I got busy with a couple of tables. In the time it took for me to greet and get the orders for both tables, get them into the computer, and get the food and drink back to the table, she still hadn’t done it. That’s when I’d finally had enough of her shit. “You need to get over there and clean that table, NOW!” I almost yelled. She finally got the hint.

Another aspect of my night was to make sure everyone was carrying a tray. I hate using them, but it’s policy and I’m making sure everyone follows the rules. Over and over I caught her not carrying a tray. Over and over I said to her, “Carry a tray” and “Put those on a tray.” She ignored me each time. The last time, she picked up two drinks from the service bar, looked at me, and walked past the stack of trays. That time, I followed her to the kitchen and proceeded to actually yell.

“Blowjob Barbie, when I tell you to carry a tray, that doesn’t just mean when you want to carry it, that means you carry one with everything you take to the table. Tray service is not optional here!”

“Alright!” she snapped back. She had a ramekin of dressing in her hand and was making her way back to the game room with it. Dressing and sides of sauce have to be put on an app plate with a napkin on it, carried on a tray. It’s a professionalism thing and a policy thing.

“THEN TURN AROUND AND PUT THAT ON A TRAY BEFORE YOU WALK OUT THAT DOOR!!!” she refused, and took it to the table.

She vanished after that. I found her in the hallway to the kitchen where the last exchange took place, more or less giving the nameless man from above a lap dance. “You need to get back to your area, Blowjob Barbie, we’re busy out there.” She ignored me and I didn’t feel like arguing. I went to the dining room where I was headed to find a manager. Ten minutes later, she still hadn’t gotten back to her area, and she had a new table. The manager told another server, Ms. A, to take the table. After Ms. A had gotten the drinks, Blowjob Barbie comes out of the break room where she and her man had gone to hide, and tells her, “Don’t worry honey, I’ve got it.” She proceeded to take the table from Ms. A causing a whole new set of drama.

Later that night, the managers pulled her in the office. I would have paid to see the show, because Manager G the Fuckin Great and Manager C the Assistant tore into her so hard that she left the office nearly in tears.

Too bad that bitching still didn’t do anything for her attitude. I caught her last night (Tues.) sitting on the bowling counter where guests pay and get shoes, swinging her legs back and forth playing on her phone. I told her to get down. “I will.”

“No, I mean get down now, and put your phone up.” She rolled her eyes and went back to what she was doing.

“Blowjob Barbie, What is your problem? Why do you think the rules don’t apply to you?”

“Ribeye, what’s your problem? Why are you always picking on me?”

“I’m not picking on you, I’m just tired of you running around here acting like a child! This is a restaurant and you’re at work, it’s time you acted like it!” I didn’t wait to see if she got down, I just let the managers know. That’s just not a good first impression for the guests to see a server sitting on a counter when they should be working, and playing on a phone to boot.

My teammates and I are trying to run her off. She’s an embarrassment to our department and an embarrassment to our store. There are others who are embarrassments too, but she definitely takes the cake. I can safely say that she’s now taken Hawk’s place as the laziest person I’ve ever had the misfortune to work with, and the only one who offers to go home with her male guests in order to get tips from them. She gives her real number out, and I think has gone out with a couple of the guys she’s served.

Thus the name Blowjob Barbie.

This is why I get stressed out at work! I have to deal with people like her! When they don’t do their jobs, I get yelled at by the manager above me for the night, as they get yelled at by the manager above them! I’m tired of it! I want the bitch gone, and so does everyone else!

Remember to listen to my radio segment, recorded this past Monday.

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(segment courtesy of the Murray Wood Show on Newstalk980.com)

Continuing on with our series of Restaurant customers, welcome to Episode 3.

I’d like to start by thanking everyone for your ideas about this series, and for your support during my time of busy as Hell-ness. Posting is hard to do when you’re exhausted, though some of my better posts have come after exhausted days.

Jumping right in:

The Diet People: Many people today are worried about their health and as such, many are currently dieting. They come into your restaurant, and proceed to peer at the menu for close to 20 minutes, trying to find something that fits into their particular diet plan of the month. Many of them will tell you they’re ready to order as they hunt, and you’re left standing there wondering why they don’t just order something. Diet people also tend to ask 1000 questions about each dish, ranging from nutrition facts that no server should ever have to know to questions like “will this be too much for me?” They’ll ask you what meals will fit into a certain diet plan, such as the “Zone” and “Adkins”, and many times you’ll be at a loss having never been on one of the name brand diets.

The “Diet” People: These are the customers that you see in line at McDonalds, at the Dairy Queen, and every other fast food restaurant known to man. They tend to order a salad with a gallon of “fat free” dressing, and an extra side of vegetables in order to make themselves feel better about getting that double cheeseburger with bacon, cheese and sour cream on the fries. They’ll be the only guests you ever serve that will order an appetizer, entree, salad, dessert (milkshake and actual dessert), say they’re on a diet and justify their gluttony with a Diet coke or a glass of unsweet tea. They surprisingly tend to be some of the nicest guests you’ll ever meet, and will generally tip at least 15%. Never say something about the amount of food vs. Diet soda however….it’s just not a good idea.

The Senior Citizens: Those guests who have finally reached their Silver and Gold era of life, and actually refer to themselves as Senior Citizens, are great guests when combined with their younger family members. However, when you get more than two Senior Citizens in a group together, you must be on guard. First, make sure that you have at least 4 pots of coffee ready (if a day shift, regular, night shift decaffeinated), and make sure that they stay on a burner. Seniors like to drink coffee, and will drink it all day long if you let them. They have to be more or less ushered out of your section when they’re finished eating/drinking because they tend to camp. They can be either the nicest people you’ve met or the most hateful people you’ll ever meet. It really depends on how tired they are. Seniors also tend to order things in half sizes despite not offering half sizes on the menu.  They’ll lecture you on how they can’t eat much and will blame you for not being able to get that half of a piece of grilled chicken.  They will only tip a dollar, two at the most, and they think they’re giving the best tip in the world.  They’re not desirable guests in the least.

That’s it for this episode.  Don’t worry, there’s more to come with this series.  I’m having a great time doing it.

Come back soon!

Ribeye