Yes, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted, and I know it’s been a couple of weeks since we had a new Round Table.  I’m going to get a new Round Table up on Monday.  I’m also going to make some changes to the RagingServer store, and the theme.  The site’s moving to a new server, same domain.

I’ve been a little tired the past couple of weeks.  It’s that time of year again, when the high school brats start to graduate, families come in town, and all come to make my life a living hell.  It doesn’t help that I’ve started my new job as of this week (2nd job, still serving) at a local golf facility and that’s making me a little irritable when I get to work at the restaurant.

I know you’ve all wanted to hear about Mothers Day, and I’m not going to let you down.  I wanted to strangle small children.  I don’t know what it is about Mother’s Day that makes people think they get everything free, but it happens year in and year out.

This year, my first table of the day was one of those discount junkies. It was a table of 6, 4 little screaming brats, the Mother, and the Baby Daddy.  Momma doesn’t want to wait for me to go to the table and proceeds to get up and waddle to the bar to get a drink.  I manage to overhear a few snippets of the conversation she had there while I waited for it..I mean her, to return to the table.  Included but not limited to the following:  “Hennessey..”  “dat’s too damn much”  “fuck dis shit”.  Fun times already.

When she finally waddles back to the table, a few things jump out at my attention that I hadn’t noticed before.  This bitch had some fake nails, and they were fucking huge.  We’re talking 2 and a half inches at least.  They were painted black with gold glitter, and they curved in like the talons of a demon.  More shocking than the nails were the fact that they were only on one hand.  How the fuck do these ghetto assed women eat or do anything with those gigantic nails on their hands?  I’ve seen servers try to wear them and work, and they were the laziest of the bunch!    These nails in the picture are about a quarter of the size but you get the idea.  Anyway, I walk up to the table and have to wait for a minute before I can talk because the fucking crotch stain kids wouldn’t shut up.  “Momma I gon’ get some wangs.”  “Day gon’ brang some roll, Momma?”  Finally, I’d had enough and I more or less shouted at them, “Hello everyone, how are you?”  They shut up right quick when I raised my voice.  Momma Jaquandria puts one of those talons in my face in a ‘hold on’ gesture.  “Let me axe you a querstion.”  I hear ghetto speak every day, but the words ‘axe’ and ‘querstion’ in one sentence was almost too much for me and I nearly burst out laughing at her.

Instead, I felt the need to subtly correct her.  “Yes, ma’am, ask away.  I’ll be glad to answer your question.” If she got the hint then she didn’t let me know.  “Why is ya’ll Hennesey be chahge so much?”   It took me a second to translate, and I’m getting pretty fluent at translating ghetto.  “Excuse me?  I didn’t quite catch that, ma’am.”

“I axed you why ya’ll Hennessey be chahge so much, dat too much money to pay fa some Henny.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t make the prices I just follow them.”

“But dis be Muttah’s Day, we pose ta get ouah drank fa fray.  Dat what da commercial say.”  There was no commercial.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you must be thinking of another restaurant.  We haven’t run any Mother’s Day commercials, especially ones that say we give away free drinks.  That’s illegal here.”

“Well I wan’ my drank fray, you need ta get yo managah fa dat false advadisin.”  I can see how this is going to end.  Thankfully, I was backed up on the no free drinks.

The entire table ordered wings, with the two adults getting double orders.

The food comes.  “Why deez wangs ain’ crispy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Deez wangs ain’ done, day ain’ crispy at all.”  She shoved a half eaten, fully done wing in my face.

“Ma’am, the wings are fully done, but if you’d like me to have them fried a bit longer I’ll gladly have it done for you.  It’s going to be another 15 minutes or so though, the kitchen is really slammed right now.”

“Dat mean it be fray right?”  I took back all 8 orders of wings, sat them in the window for about 10 minutes and brought them back out.  “Now deez is some wangs!  You gon’ haff ta brang out mo’ ranch fa deez.”  I really wanted to stay and see how she ate the wings with those nails, but I was in a hurry.  I’m going to assume she just sucked the meat off of them.  Grand total of 2 oz. ranch sides:  26.  Total ranch eaten:  All of it.

Toward the end of the meal, they’d finally pissed me off beyond return.  “Ma’am, I’d appreciate if you could keep your children from throwing their bones onto the floor.  That’s what the big bowl in the middle of the table is for.”  She responded by throwing a bone onto the floor in front of my face, then asking for the manager.

They ended up paying for the entire meal, and stiffing me on a 90 dollar check.  I wasn’t surprised as they were nothing but ghetto trash.

The rest of the day was much like that table, and by the end of the day I just wanted to down a bottle of aspirin and sleep for a month.

Do us all a favor, and eat with your families at HOME on Mother’s Day, not out in public.  You know who I’m talking to.

Ribeye

I don’t know what makes people think that when they get shit-faced at my place of business, they can just puke on their lane and keep on bowling.  I’m not a fucking janitor, and I’m not going to clean it up!

This bitch I was serving tonight, was drinking shots of patron.  And our biggest draft of miller lite.  And more shots of patron.  Apparently, she was also hitting up the bar after I cut her off, and the bartender was out to get a tip so he kept right on serving.

She pukes.  She pukes hardcore, tequila smelling, gut wrenching nastiness.  She then proceeds to bowl, stepping around the puke on her lane, while her friends yell for someone to come clean it up.  I happen to be walking by the lane, and one of them waves me over.  I don’t want to go yet I also don’t want to listen to their hollering.

“Can you clean up this mess on the floor?”  One of them asks me.

“No, I cannot.  Nor would I even if I could.  That’s not my vomit, it’s hers.  Make her clean it up!”

“But you’re the waiter, you’re supposed to clean up after us!”

“I have my limits, and bodily waste is at the top of that list.”

“You ain’t gettin a tip if you don’t clean it up.”  Moron blond heifer, you’ve already paid and tipped me!  About that time, Madame Patrona comes walking, and I use the term very loosely, back from the lane where she’d gotten a ball halfway down the lane, and nearly slips in her own waste.

“Ma’am, you need to clean up this mess, and we have a cab on the way to take you home.”

“But I’m havin fun!”

“Not on my floor you’re not!”

The sad thing about the group is that they tipped quite well.  However, a tip does not a vomit-vacuum make!

Other things I refuse to clean up:

Diapers…some mothers are just trash.

Snot rags.  For fuck sake, it’s flu season!  I don’t want to catch your bird flu or you’re MRSA.  Throw the shit away!

Blood. I’ve cleaned it before, and while I don’t shudder at the sight of it, I just don’t feel comfortable, nor do I get paid nearly enough.  That’s what salaried managers are trained to do!

On a different note, I’m going to have to think up some way to come up with the money to get the Raging T-Bird fixed.  My car is in need of about 800 bucks of work, and I just don’t have it.  I thought about putting up a PayPal thing, but I don’t feel right about it.  I’m going to end up getting a 2nd job, quite possibly another serving job which means more stories and more bitchery.  Then you’ll never know which restaurant I’m talking about unless I mention the bowling alley, so I probably won’t mention it!  Best to keep you all on your toes.  However, if any of you come up with an idea for me to make a bit of extra cash to fix the Raging T-Bird, please let me know.  Problems have arisen that make me really need to have the car running, especially with me about to have 2 jobs and RagingPartner about to have one also, and one vehicle just ain’t gonna cut it.

Come back soon, er’body!

Ribeye

People always look at me crazy when I’m pulling out the booth seats and sweeping behind them.  The other cocktails hate doing it because it means more work.  The dining room staff doesn’t do it at all because well….I don’t really know why.  They’re supposed to do it every night.  We’re all supposed to do it every night.  Tonight, I found 20 bucks behind one of them, which just made my night.

I was also for once in a really good mood tonight.  I was one of the only people there in a good mood, guests and employees alike were pissy and I don’t know why.  Well, I do know why with my dept leader.  He worked a 10am-12am shift today, and apparently was repeating to everyone “I’m in overtime” all day.  He didn’t say that but once to me, but I was forced to tell him to take it down a notch at one point.  He was just bitching all night.  It was annoying.  Not only that, but he stole a couple of tables in 2 of the other cocktails sections.  At least he stayed and helped close while he waited for “FlipFlop” to get off work.

Tonight was also a night of menu creators and people who didn’t bother to read the menu at all.

“Do you have any kind of spaghetti with meat sauce?”

“No sir, we don’t have spaghetti.  We have chicken alfredo and spicy shrimp alfredo, but no beef pastas.”

“What about spaghetti and meatballs?”  Did I not just answer that question?  How stupid are you??

Then we have the guy who just wouldn’t accept that we don’t have any other flavor of drink but cherry.

“I’ll have a strawberry lemonade.”  Sounds familiar huh…same thing happened a week ago with some woman.

“We don’t have strawberry lemonade sir, I’m sorry.”

“Then I want a vanilla coke.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t have vanilla flavoring.”

“Then get your bartender to make it.”

“They don’t have any more flavor syrup than we do, sir, once again I’m sorry.”  He must have thought I was lying to him though, because he went to the bartenders and asked them repeatedly for flavored soda despite us all telling him we didn’t have it.  The best he would get would be cherry coke.

I had a kid in there who I think was pretending to be blind, but I can’t be for sure.  He was being led around by his parents, and told which way to go and where things were, but I saw him playing a game later in the night.  I don’t know what the reason for the possible ruse was but after seeing him playing Tekken, any sympathy I had vanished.

Got stiffed because I refused to get on the PA system and announce a birthday.  It’s just not something we do, and if I change the rules for one person I’ll have to change them for all of the morons.  They were pissed because I didn’t give them anything for their birthday at all, no dessert, no free meal, no nothing.  Fucking entitlement junkie, not like your fat as hell friend needs another sundae anyway.

Nothing major tonight being that it was a pretty good night, and I’m too tired for any real inspiration tonight.

Come back tomorrow for a better post,

Ribeye

Over the years, working in various restaurants, and yes, even eating in various restaurants, I’ve seen some not so savory things.  I’ve seen guests having….relations..with each other, I’ve seen guests having relations with employees, I’ve seen employees having relations with employees, I’ve seen managers having relations with employees, and managers having relations with other managers.  I’ve been in a few of those positions, but not in a few years, since RagingPartner and I got together (June 27th 2005 is when we made it official for those of you wanting to send anniversary things to us).

At Dennyland, the first round, on Murfreesboro Road in Nashville, way back when it was still open and I was still in high school at 16, I saw hookers.  I saw hookers doing unsavory things beneath the booths, such as handjobs, such as being pleasured by their employers fingers.

At Shoneyland, round one, I saw many cooks hooking up with the young servers after getting them quite drunk and stoned.  This was the Shoneyland that is now closed from Harding Place.  These are where I learned my trade…I witnessed a manager and a bus boy in the office, and it was quite entertaining.  I was 16 at the time.  This was also the first time I took a guy into the walk-in cooler of a restaurant, and make sweet sweet love against the produce.

At Dennyland, round two, on Briley Parkway in Nashville, before it shut down, when I was 17, I walked in on a couple of guests having some jackrabbit sex in the mens room stall.  It was a little weird, as I wanted to use the stall for an illegal purpose of my own (pre-rehab).  I also caught a cook masturbating by the dumpster, a woman masturbating in a booth, and two servers consumating a 10 minute relationship in the back dining room.

At Shoneyland, round….I forget, it was 5 or 6, watching a voyeur watch another couple screwing in a minivan was quite nice, I was 18 at the time, and it was one of my servers and the day shift dining room manager…I was the night dining room manager….it was the now defunct Shoneyland in Hermitage, TN.

At T.G.I. Fridays, at Shopryland (Opry Mills) in Nashville, during one of my coke binges, I had a quick fling with a Burger king employee who happened to be my dealer at the time.  I was 23, he was 19, and his wife was not happy when she found out about it.  I didn’t know she saw anything, but apparently she’d been looking for him.  That Fridays also was notorious for handjobs and blowjobs in the bathrooms.  I saw a few, heard a few, and took a picture during one of them.  The picture was subsequently deleted from my phone with a threat of beating my ass.  The guy was laughing his ass off.  The girl was the one threatening me.

At Waffle House on Murfreesboro Road, RagingPartner and I saw a prostitute get fingered to three orgasms while eating her breakfast.  It was something that made the appetite go away.

There’s a ton more, but that’s for another post.  I’d like to ask the question:  What is it about restaurants that makes people horny?  Is it the food, the chance of getting caught?  What is it?

Thought this might be a funny, however sickening change from the norm.

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