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

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I worked another double shift today (Sunday 5/4).  I wasn’t planning on doing it, but I picked up for Miz J this morning because she helped me out Thursday night.

The drawback (or so I initially thought):  I was to work in the dining room, and I did work in the dining room.  After almost 3 and a half hours of sleep, I managed to get up and motivated this morning and actually got to work on time.  They didn’t even have me on the floor plan in the dining room at first, so after remaking it and being forced into our “raised dining” area (seating that’s a few steps higher than the rest of the dining room, mainly for parties but has some booths), I was ready to start my shift.

My first table was a party of 6, a couple of grandparents and an aunt, and three little girls.  One of the girls was celebrating her 12th birthday, so I just couldn’t help but to have a bit of fun with them.  The grandparents and her aunt were a little bland with no personality but the girls were having fun.

The birthday girl, a little bit of a chubby girl, seemed a bit embarrassed to talk to me for some reason, so I had to open her up.  First thing out of my mouth when I found out it was her birthday was, “So you’re 16 today?  When are you going to take your driving test.”  That got her giggling and blushing, and from there we had fun.  She let me know it was her 12th birthday and she and her sister were visiting her grandparents and aunt, and her aunts adopted daughter.  I got their orders in, and I found out that even though our kids cheeseburger is just that, a plain cheeseburger with fries, people still let me know that they want a “plain cheeseburger”.  What I didn’t know about a plain cheeseburger is that it has no cheese.  That makes it a hamburger people!

After I got the orders in, Birthday wanted to open her presents.  Grandma told her she had to have my permission first.  “Can I?  Can I?”  she asked, all kinds of excited and making me remember what it was like to be a kid.  “Nope, not yet,” I replied, which she pointedly ignored.   I left them to the presents, and went about my business.

I kept making her blush throughout the meal, and even though one of the cheeseburgers was supposed to be a hamburger that I was supposed to telepathically pull from their heads, I still made 28 bucks from them.  It was a total of 70 bucks between the two checks, and I was completely surprised.  Before they left, Birthday girl came up and hugged me, and wanted to take a picture with me.  First table of the day and I was blushing.

I had a few filler tables before the other servers came in, and then I was in my boring section.  I had two tables total in my actual section, one a party of 7 and one of them a couple from out of town.  The couple came in while I was on break, and waited until I got there to get anything from the bar.  As usual, I made the lady blush by asking if she was really old enough to drink.  Clearly, she was at least in her 30’s, but it’s nice to see them smile sometimes.  She was so happy when I suggested a chocolate martini, she’d never heard of one.  They promised to come see me before they went home.

The next party, the 7 top, was a bunch of young 20’s guys and girls.  I went up to them like I do everyone else, happy and fun.  They got a few drinks from the bar, and I managed to convince them to get appetizers.  I wasn’t too happy that it was only 7 people, figuring that they were young and I wasn’t getting a tip without gratuity, but I made the best of the situation.  I stayed up there talking to them, and that’s when I learned that this group comes in every couple of weeks or so.

Not getting into the details of making sure they had drinks full, and making sure everything was right the entire time while actually asking how they were and what they did for work, I learned a few things from this table.  Along with the fact that they come in a lot, I learned that they’ve never eaten in the game room or bowling alley, only in the dining room.  It’s always the same 7 people that come in, some work together, but they’re all really good friends.  Two couples, and three singles.  They’ve been friends since childhood apparently.

I learned that when they eat in the dining room, the servers don’t really care about them.  It’s always taken them forever to get refills, their food doesn’t come out right sometimes, they get rude and unfriendly service all the time.  They told me over and over how wonderful my service was, how nice I was, how great I was.  Talk about an ego boost.  They enjoyed my service, as opposed to the normal dining room servers.  They never knew that they could eat in our game room or bowling alley (where I normally work) and after telling my management how good I was and how happy they were compared to their normal visits, they promised to try and find me every time they come in.  I was really touched for some reason, maybe because coming from them it didn’t sound as hollow as most of the game room guests I get that say they’ll come back and never do.  Don’t get me wrong, I have my regulars but I have a ton of people who say they’ll be regulars and never come back.  It touched me that these people asked me to sit with them and have lunch, and wanted to know how my day was.  It touched me that they also took pictures with me, just like Birthday Girl did, and that the ladies hugged me and the guys shook my hand.  Almost makes me miss working in a dining room setting full time.  It also concerned me a little, because I was just doing what I normally do when I serve, and they were so impressed.  Are my dining room servers really that unfriendly?  Are they really so lazy as to not take an empty glass when they bring a new one?  I’ll be investigating this further as I pick up extra shifts in the front.  (they also tipped me fabulously, 50 bucks on 130)

Another table that made me happy today was on the 2nd half of my shift, when I was back in my home, the game room.  There was a family that came in, Dareeta the Mother, Jamario the son, LaGordon the other son, and Thompson the Father.  It was their first time, they were from Kentucky.  At first, when I saw Dareeta (real name) with gold on top and bottom of her mouth, I prejudged.  I won’t lie.  I thought they’d be trouble, especially when Dareeta was on her phone and LaGordon had his ipod on during the first half.  However, I took the time to talk to them.  I got Dareeta a bottle of white zin, and just treated them like normal guests.  Like my party earlier in the day, they wanted me to sit with them and eat.  They smiled, they laughed.  I got Dareeta and Thompson on the DDR game before they left.  They tipped almost 20 bucks on a 90 dollar bill, and thanked me for making their “first expurrince” at our restaurant a great one.

Then we come to the stupid.  We have the stupid Ribeye who overserved an older guy to the point he fell asleep standing up with a pool cue in his hand.  I was scolded for it, but nothing else because I got them a cab home.

The last table of the night was the only one that really pissed me off.  It was a group of ghetto young adults, none over 26.  One girl, pregnant, her name Sheleetia, had a look on her face like she had something shoved up her ass the wrong way.  Her boyfriend, LaSamuel, had tats all over his arms and fake gold all in his mouth.  The other couple, Lasquanda (the only nice one of the group) and her boyfriend, a big fat stupid son of a bitch corn row having bastard named Jearl.

I didn’t think they were going to eat at first, until they came up to me and Jearl says, “You who we orda da foo from?”

“Well, yes, if you’re sitting at the tables.  I’m the only one here right now, so I’m not serving the games tonight.”  So they sit at a table.  I get over there, and after 10 minutes of explaining that our lemonade is just pink and not strawberry, I finally get drink orders from three of them.  Jearl, however, is having issues ordering his drink.

“Ya’ll juice get free refill?”  I tell him no, that I have to charge full price for each glass.  “Ya’ll gots appa juice?”  I once again have to answer in the negative, which brings the following question.  “If ya’ll got dat appa mahtini, why ya’ll ain’ got appa juice?”
“Because the apple martini is made with apple pucker, not apple juice.”  I then have to remind him about 8 times that the juices are not free refills.

They finally order food, after changing the menu to suit their wants.  Jearl orders a chicken alfredo.  While they’re waiting (this is 30 minutes before kitchen closes), he takes every opportunity to yell at me wondering where his foods at, all the while throwing out what I learned to be “Crip” signs with his hands.  I don’t know one gang from the next, but one of my cooks set me straight.  Fuck if I care about a Crip, I only care about a tip.  After 10 minutes of his badgering me about his food, I was forced to tell him, “It’s cooking, when it’s done, you’ll be eating.  I can’t make the grill cook any faster,” and walked off.  Their food finally comes out after 16 minutes, which is good for that time of night.

Jearl waits until he’s finished half of his pasta before he asks me for “some mo’ of dat sketty sauce dat’s on dis.”  Then he gets pissed off that I have to charge for it.  It takes about 6 minutes to come out, and that pisses him off even more.  He starts demanding free dessert for his long wait, after I warned him it’d take a bit of time to get the sauce because the kitchen is about to close and they do the alfredo in a skillet making it take longer.

“You’re not getting any free dessert, you’re still eating your food.”

“You ain’ da managah is you?  Get da managah ovah here, we see what day give me.”  Manager S the Fibromyalgiapod comes by, and takes the food from him.  No free dessert, but has the kitchen recook his pasta and send it to go.

Check time.  Jearl’s check was 40.66 and the other couple was 20.79.  Jearl gives me 40.20 and tells me to keep the change.  “Sir, you still owe me 46 cents so there is no keeping the change here.”  He counts out another 20 cents, and starts to walk off.  “Are you going to pay the correct amount of your bill or what, sir?  Can you not read what the price says?”  Maybe I struck a nerve there, but he started getting pissed off.  “Never mind, sir, that damn quarter ain’t hurting my pocket any.”  I knew he wasn’t going to tip when he didn’t even pay the right amount.

All in all, except for the last table of the night, I had a really good double.  You all also got to see the reasons that I do enjoy my job in this post.  I don’t always have people that piss me off, and today was one of those days.  It’s rare that more than one group a week makes me feel good, but to have three in one day make me feel awesome, make my head grow even larger, and make me blush is unheard of.  Those three groups made me happy at work for a change, their tips sure helped, but even had they tipped 12% I’d have still been happy with them.

See, serving isn’t all bad!  And some of you wonder why I still do it.

Ribeye

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