I guess I was a slight bit vague in my post this morning, talking about the possible future unemployment of the Ribeye.

Here’s what’s going on:

As you all know, if you’ve read any of my old posts, I work in a corporate atmosphere.  As such, there are certain rules that I must follow, whether I agree with them or not.  As many of you can tell from the tone of my posts on here, I can be a bit….opinionated sometimes, as well as a bit…hateful.  Sometimes that attitude, along with my occasional tardiness and/or carelessness gets me in trouble.  Well, over the past three months, I’ve been “written up” a few times too many for reasons including, but not limited to:  using a manager code on our time clock to fix my own break where I forgot to clock back in (manager code was from a manager long gone), coming in late a few times, sleeping through the majority of a shift, calling 4 hours after I was supposed to be there, voicing my opinions about stupid people to the wrong people, having a “negative” attitude when having trainees.

You get the picture.

Well, last week, last Thursday to be exact (not yesterday 10/9), I was working the game room bar.  I had a cash register.  Apparently, I was a bit careless, and my drawer came up a bit short.  Two days before, I’d used my personal debit card, rang in a coke, and tipped myself, because I needed a bit of extra cash.  Apparently, the use of my own fucking debit card to get my own fucking money is against the rules, a “misuse of company funds” according to the GM.  That was one write up.  That one, combined with my register being short a couple of days later (which they didn’t tell me about until 2 days ago, Tues, 10/7), has made my management team just really fucking hateful toward me.

Now I understand that I’m not indispensable.  I understand that I can be replaced, and that nobody is too good to be fired.

My GM has put me, as of Tuesday morning, on a 30 day probation due to the drawer shortage and my using my own card (I only got 20 bucks out of it anyway).  What that means is: if they have any issue with me, either real or perceived, I will be instantly terminated.  No more employment for the Ribeye.

My issues:  I don’t have a problem with being documented for the drawer shortage, that was my own fault for not being careful.  I do, however, have a problem with being documented for getting my own fucking cash out of my own fucking account!  I also have a problem with my managers not telling me until 5 days later that the drawer was short in the first place, despite my working for the next 2 days after it happened.  I had no clue of what I was walking into.

I also have an issue with there being absolutely no loyalty to someone who has put over two years of their life into making the fucking restaurant better.  I’ve put more of my personal time into this job, both on and off the clock, at home, at work, all the time, than I’ve ever put into any other job I’ve worked.  I have been loyal to that place despite the low morale that everyone feels, and I’ve stayed through times that I should have walked out the door.  I’ve put up with more shit from the guests that….visit there than I’ve ever dealt with in any other restaurant in my life, and I’ve done it with a smile on my face.  I’ve worked doubles, I’ve worked overtime, and I’ve worked shifts that I’ve made a literal 2 dollars for a 7 hour shift.

A threat of termination is the thanks I get.  Yes, I’m looking for another job.  No, it’s not as easy as it should be right now, despite my experience, due to the shitty state of our economy.  It’s getting harder and harder to find serving jobs right now, and with my hours it’s going to be hard to find something and get the training done.  I’d have already left and started somewhere new were it not for the shitty state of my finances right now, I just can’t afford to take a week or two off from making tips to go through training, not unless I’m guaranteed a check a week that has actual money on it from the week that I start.

I’m hoping for two things right now.  I’m hoping that I find a new job before this month is up, that way I don’t have to worry about watching my back and every little thing that I do, and that if I do make it past this “probation” the GM has imposed, that I’m able to work at this job and the new one.  I really want to train at a new one before I leave this one, that way when I quit the “restaurant that shant be named” I’ll already be making tips at the new place.

I know by posting this that all you readers are going to leave me comments saying “I told you so” about my leaving this place and working in a corporate place, and I deserve it.  What’s sad is that I still have loyalty to the restaurant itself, and even those at the corporate office.  My regional vp is one of the most awesome guys I’ve met, and he actually listens to the employees.  It’s just the current GM and certain members of the management team, and the general staff that I have issues with.  Many of the problems here (aside from the shitty guests) started in the past 6 months since we got the new GM.  Don’t get me wrong, I had problems with the place, but had we kept the prior GM before this one, I am confident that there wouldn’t be anywhere near as many problems as we’re having now.  We sure as fuck were making more money when Mr. S was still in the building.  He wasn’t hiring morons that whined and cried, he wasn’t imposing rules like “No smoking unless you’re clocked out for a break, once per shift unless you’re working 12 hours, then only twice”, and he wasn’t a total fucking prick.

He understood that employees have to enjoy their job if they’re going to perform properly.  He respected his front of the house, he fucking respected his servers.  This new GM doesn’t give a flying fuck about us, and if I manage to make it past this probation period, I may not leave.  I may stay, just so I can see his downfall, the downfall that will surely come during our coming party season.  He’ll end up being….relieved of his position after he loses 20 servers and cocktails for putting too many people on the floor and on private parties.  We’re not going to lose too much money before rebelling, and the turnover he’s going to experience because of it is going to be tremendous, and he’s going to be left with a skeleton crew of a few veterans that are loyal and a few servers that are worthless that can only handle 3 tables at a time.  That turnover is going to be his undoing, and I can’t wait to see the show.

Some of his own management team is considering leaving because of his attitude and his decisions, and I wish those who end up leaving well.  Them leaving will be a supreme detriment to the restaurant, but such is life when you have a GM that isn’t listening to anyone but himself.   Threats alone aren’t going to make people work for you, I learned that many years ago during my first management job.  My best friend’s mother (Jimmy James’ of comments past), the BerdMaster, taught me how to be a manager the right way; with fear and by example, with threats and rewards, and by treating the staff with respect thereby gaining respect.  Constantly threatening your staff with documentation leading to termination only breeds low morale and an ultimate low in productivity.

Managers who lead by threatening alone are generally what I call “numbers” managers.  They tend to get the sales up for the restaurant, and that’s why they keep their jobs.  The path they take to get those sales, however, is where I don’t agree.  When we had Manager #2, Mr. S from above, we had an awesome staff and were well on our way to the sales achieved by GM #3 that wants me gone.  We were getting there a bit slower, but we were getting there the right way; by cultivating a good environment, and nurturing new servers into doing their jobs well.  GM#3 chose to hire a huge amount of servers, not train them properly, not allow us the budget to train them long enough, throw them on the floor with tiny sections and not allow us to run large sections, adding more tables, and the turnover got more sales.  Not more money, mind you, just more sales.   More servers = more sales = same money for the vets because we’re not getting any extra, we’re getting less than we used to.

I’m going to savor this mans failure like old rich men savor 300$ a glass brandy.  I’m going to savor it, and then I’m going to say  “I told you so”.  Then I’m going to tell the next GM, whether I’m an employee there or not, some of the things that GM#3 went wrong, and hope that he/she takes heed.  Hopefully they’ll know already; if they come from a successful location, they will know already.

And threatening one of the few people who is loyal to the restaurant, one of the people who works their ass off, who is willing to go above and fucking beyond, because they occasionally fuck up or had a short drawer one time in the entire time he’s had a drawer, is not the way to go.

I may just be a perfect angel, get a new job and train during my off time from job #1, and once I’m on the floor at the new job, walk out of the first one during a shift.

No, wrong, I’m not a child anymore.  I’ve done that 3 times in my past, and then I had it done to me a few times during busy shifts.  I’d never do that to my coworkers again, no matter how pissed off I get.

I’m no fool.  I know I’m expendable, and I know I can easily be replaced.  I also know that it’s rare to find someone who works as hard as me, believe me, we’ve only gotten maybe 16 others in the 2 years that I’ve been there, and most of them have quit and found other jobs.  There’s still a couple hard workers there, but most of them are drones, little lemmings that come in and work their 3 tables, freak out when they get 4.

I just want a little of the loyalty that I’ve given the past 2 years.

Ribeye

That’s been the theme of the last week at work, starting from last Tuesday…even longer when you count the incompetence part…and the substances have been going on for a bit too.  At any rate, I’m going to start with last Tuesday….

I’d gone in early to teach a day one training class to the one trainee that we had.  This girl is fucking awesome, let me tell you, and she’s just like me which makes it even better.  She has experience, she has skills, she has knowledge, and she has attitude and that makes her a damn fine cocktail server from the start.  The only thing she’s worried about are her tests and quizzes and so far, she’s passed them with flying colors.  We’ll find out either tonight (Monday) or tomorrow night just how good she does at them.  We spent lots of time during class talking and it was nice to finally have a trainee that I could be honest with and not be afraid that she’d run screaming from the building in fear and loathing.  Class went a little over, so I didn’t find out until late what was being done to my floor plan. 

In the beginning, it was supposed to be me, Ms. A (a good server), and someone else who I can’t think of off the top of my head.  That someone else happened to call out, and Ms. A decided she wanted to go to the bowling alley and get out early.  Somehow, that nominated me to be the closer in the game room, something I was already planning to do but would have rather been asked instead of lubed and fucked into it.  Doesn’t really matter as it was going to happen anyway.  However, the floor that I ended up running was far worse than I could ever have imagined. 

My game room sections are really quite small; we have 16 total tables (20 as of a couple of days ago) and during the week we generally run 3-4 servers at a time with no problem.  Sometimes, when I have a trainee it gets easier, sometimes it gets harder.  That night I was just thankful that Ms. L was there to help out because I’d have never made it. 

The other two servers that I ended up with were….less than quality…

Ms. T, a little short girl that’s quite cute and knows it, had just passed her service test with the management and was going on the floor for her first solo shift.  I had to train her for two of her floor shifts the week before and was not impressed in the least because she had a tendency to whine starting about 8:30pm.  I don’t have room for whining little brats, and this one really takes the cake.  She is a bit snotty which just gets on my nerves, and she’s quite full of herself professionally.  Whether she earns the right to be professionally snotty remains to be seen as she’s only been on the floor a week.  I think that if she actually starts paying attention to things and stops whining, she might turn out alright.  If she doesn’t then I’m going to have to run her off and I’ll stop at nothing to do so. 

Moving on, we have the 2nd Ms. A who we’ll call Rocks.  Rocks is a really pretty, really sweet, skinny blonde chick that looks like she’d be an awesome server.  Looks truly are deceiving everyone (I’m a prime example!  I look like ass and serve with the best of them!)  Rocks, as of yesterday, has been on the floor solo for a little over three weeks now.  Rocks, as of yesterday, should still be in training instead of wasting our time and funds on the floor! 

It amazes me that after the intensive training program we use (still not up to my standard but I’m working on it), someone can be on the floor for three weeks and still not know the menu.  Not only does Rocks not know the food menu, she doesn’t know what goes into basic drinks, she doesn’t know garnishes, and she doesn’t know side items.  The biggest one for me, however, and the one that’s been getting on my nerves the most lately is this:  THIS BITCH CANNOT PROPERLY CLOSE A CREDIT CARD PAYMENT TO SAVE HER LIFE!  A couple of weeks ago, I had to stay late helping her out on a Friday night because she’d closed them all out incorrectly, either not closing checks with the tip, closing more than one check to the same card, or just deleting authorizations.  I gave up that night, leaving it up to the accountant to figure out. 

After that night, I took it upon myself to try and coach Rocks on credit card procedures in the hopes that she’d eventually get it.  She hasn’t.  Rocks, as of last night, still had to hand the closing manager a stack of closed credit card checks for adjustment (adding her tips for her) because she’d not closed out a single one correctly.  The sad thing?  Closing a credit card slip is sometimes easier than closing a check to cash!  If any of you have ever used MICROS, you know exactly what I mean!  You type in the bottom total on the slip (what the guest thinks they’re paying), hit finalize, and make sure the tip/non-tip matches from screen to paper.  It’s fucking easy as Hell!  Rocks still cannot make that happen and I’m at a total loss as to what I’m supposed to do with her.  Thank the gods it’s not my decision to make because I’d have tossed her out on her ass by now. 

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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)

I am finally realizing that I’m not allowed to leave my job any earlier than closing time unless I’m working the day shift.  It doesn’t matter if I’m scheduled out an hour before close, or even 3-4 hours before close, something happens and I’m stuck.

Last Monday, I was asked to work on my day off because it was St. Patricks Day.  I was only asked to work from 4-11.  I got to work, and found that the closer had called out.  As the most senior cocktail on the shift that night, and the shift leader, it was thrown to me to stay until closing.

Last Tuesday, I was scheduled out at 10 pm.  This time, nobody called out, we were just too busy for them to allow me to leave at a reasonable time, and I was still there at closing time finishing up sidework.

Last Wednesday (4 days ago).  I have begged and begged to no longer be scheduled in the bowling alley until close on Wednesdays, because it’s our free employee day and our employees tend to trash the place.  Not only that, but there’s a ton of them that tend to not tip, or tip shitty.  I was not only there till close as scheduled, but I was there for an hour after close, cleaning up after my co-workers.

Tonight (Saturday):  I was scheduled to work from 5-12.  I get there about 4:30, only to find out that I was technically supposed to be into work at 4 to teach a computer training class.  Said class wasn’t put on my schedule, and I didn’t even remember that we had a trainee this week, so I didn’t get bitched at too much about it.  My section is full when I finally do come on the clock, so there’s not much for me to do for the first little bit.  About 20 after, my first table goes down.  It’s a table of 6, a redneck couple and their 4 kids.  They left me 3 bucks on a 63 dollar bill, which set the tone for the night.  Bad, shitty money all night.

By 10:30, I’ve had it and I’m ready to go.  I’m tired, I’m cranky, and I’m not making shit for tips no matter how nice I am to these people.  Ghetto trash and Redneck trash always tend to blame the server when the kitchen is running long, just like the table that wasn’t even mine that got smart with me:  “Do you have a military discount?”

“No sir, I’m sorry we don’t.”  “How bout a ‘I had to wait 50 fuckin minutes for my food’ discount?”

“I can’t answer that sir, as I told you when your order was put in that the kitchen was running about that long.  Let me just get a manager.”  That’s the last I said to that table, though I felt kind of sorry for the server when he got back from his break, because they stiffed him after getting half off their bill.

About 11:15, I finally get cut off the floor.  I had one table that I’d picked up in someone elses section, and one that had sat down in mine.  The only thing I’d rung in for the table in my section was a cup of soup.  I ask the closer if she’d like to transfer the soup, because I have to be back to work at 11am tomorrow (Sunday) and work a double, and I want to get started on my sidework because I want to leave.

“I don’t want them”

“Come on, please?  I have a lot to do before I can leave, and I don’t want to be here all night.”

“Naw, I ain’ takin them.”  You fucking bitch.  You stupid fucking bitch.  Next thing I know, the original two people that were sitting there added 7 more.  They made sure to tell me up front that “Day be wit us, but we ain’ on da same check.  You betta not put no graturty on da bill neithah.”  Yes, they were ghetto trash.  Ghetto trash to the extreme, but that’s not why I didn’t want to take them.  I wanted to fucking leave.  I’ll take anyone, even if I don’t like them.

These mother fuckers end up staying till 10 minutes before we close, and they ran me like a dog for the entire time they sat.  I heard the command “Brang me su’mo’ rainch, main,” at least 20 times between the 9 of them.  “Why da food takin so long?” 4 minutes after I rang it in, and “Dis ain’ gon’ be enough lemon fah my drank, you gon’ need ta brang su’mo’” with every refill of their water.

The first woman pays out about 12:30.  She asks me, “Is I gotta leave yo’ tip on da table?”

“You can, or you can just give it to me now, whatever you’d like to do.”  I assume she’s going to leave me at least something.

Once they all pay out, it was 4 separate checks, I realize that not a single one of them left a fucking dime, and now I’m even more pissed off.  I haven’t had a chance to get to the back to start sorting/polishing/rolling my silverware, I can’t stock my section because it’s full of living, breathing garbage, and I can’t get to do my sidework because they won’t leave me the fuck alone.  The total bill was 98 bucks.  If there had been a grat, it would have been 17 and some change.

RagingPartner was sitting at the table in front of the two they were using.  I made sure to say loud enough that they could hear, “Why the hell should I be surprised that this ghetto trash didn’t leave a goddamn dime for a tip.”  If they did hear me, they didn’t say anything to me or a manager.  I’m not sure they would have understood it if they had heard it with how stoned they all were.  I swear, even when I used to smoke a quarter of weed a day, I never smelled that strong.  I don’t miss being stoned all the time either, no weed since August of 06, no coke or alcohol since May of 06.

RagingPartner decided to take a stand, however, and I didn’t find out about it until after we left at 1:30.  He said quite deliberately and loudly to them, “Who the Hell taught you how to tip?”  Grandpa, the old guy of the party apparently heard him and was staring at him quite meanly.  I don’t care, I hate them all and I want them to be turned on a spit, roasting over a fire so that some cannibals can eat them.

I just hope that Ms. L, the bitch that refused to take the table from me so I could leave, never has the nerve to ask me for a favor, especially if it involves picking up a table.   I really love Ms. L to death, but that shit pissed me off, knowing that I had a limited sleep time before work tomorrow.  I’m finally calmed down, but I’m not going to be able to sleep for a bit yet, so I’m going to be working a double shift tomorrow on 4-5 hours of sleep.  Happy fucking Happy, Joy fucking Joy.

And tomorrow (well today now) is fucking Easter Sunday, which means a bunch of brats coming in with their parents, high on sugar from candy out of dollar store easter baskets.  The parents who take the time to make their kids baskets for them won’t bring them to my job, oh no, they’ll stay home or visit family.  We’ll get the dregs of society.

Maybe I’ll be able to not kick a kid tomorrow…

Ribeye

It started snowing here in Nashville tonight.  Not just a little, but enough to make the roads icy and keep people at home.  This also kept money out of my pocket.

I had a grand total of 360 in net sales tonight.  My normal for a Friday night is over a grand.  Of course, I might have missed a hundred bucks in sales not coming on the clock until 6:15 tonight, but I wasn’t even scheduled to be there until 6 anyway, and I guess I should consider myself lucky because I wasn’t even supposed to be on the floor in the first place.  I was supposed to be the break bitch tonight, giving everyone their 30 minute break, making a 10 dollar an hour pay rate, and going home early.  I needed cash more than I needed that payrate on my check.

Something I’m noticing lately, people are starting to get lazy again.  Not all people, just a few of them.  Most of the time, it’s just them standing around not doing anything and getting in the way, but other times it’s things that affect everyone.  It’s things like sidework…stocking your section, stocking condiments.  I hate it when people lie and say there’s no ketchup because they don’t feel like going to look.  I know it’s snowing and you all want to go home, that doesn’t mean you need to lie about your work just to get out of doing it!

I didn’t really have any tables overly piss me off tonight either.  Tips, while not great, were at least decent.  I did have on family leave their shit on my table for like two hours, not that I really needed the table but it still upset me, mainly because they only tipped me 2 bucks on a 50 dollar check.  I hate them.

Nothing more major to report tonight I’m sorry to say, other than I hate snow.  Snow ruins money at restaurants, and it makes everyone but the kids be pissy.

I’ll have something better tomorrow.  Later for now people.

Ribeye