Everyone, if you’ve already read something like this, disregard it.  For those of you who haven’t, I’m desperately hoping that you learn from the following post and educate your friends and family, your peers and co-workers, because we’re just plain tired of this bullshit!

Don’t tell us you’re ready to order unless you’re ready to fucking order!!  You take up so much of our time when you say things like “We ready” and then proceed to look through the menu for another 10 minutes to decide on an order of chicken strips!  There’s other things we can be doing, and 9 times out of 10, when you do that, we know you’re not going to tip and you get ignored by default.

Don’t bitch and complain because a salad doesn’t come with your meal because we have no control over the prices set by the corporate office/restaurant owner.  I’m sorry that you think a salad should come with your chicken pasta but that’s not my fault.  If you want the salad, pay the extra price.  Otherwise, stop whining, it’s not going to change anything.

Don’t bring in your own drinks, the restaurant isn’t your friends block party or a fucking movie theater!  We have drinks for you to order and pay for, and most restaurants will take your snuck in drinks, especially if they consist of alcohol.

Don’t come running to us asking “Is it too late to change my order?” after it’s been in for 10 minutes, because it is too late to change your fucking order!  Doing that ensures that you’re going to wait an extra 10 minutes for your food just giving you something else to bitch and moan about, when the problem is your own fucking fault to begin with!

DO NOT CUSS YOUR SERVER OUT!  Doing that opens you, and your food, up to any retribution that we see fit to give.  I hate that your girlfriend dumped you, I hate that you got robbed and didn’t get a drink because of your lack of an ID, but cussing me out because you’re having a shitty night is the worst thing you can possibly do.

All of you fucktards who committed the above transgressions tonight should be drug out in the street and shot.

Ribeye

 Hey everyone, I hope you’ve all had a great night/morning/lunch or whatever time it is where you’re at right now!

RagingPartner and I went out to eat earlier tonight, and the service just wasn’t all that great. It wasn’t quite horrible, it just wasn’t up to the par that we try to set for ourselves in the industry. This experience tonight (I normally get great service when I go out to eat) has given me the inspiration for this post. These tips are in no certain order, and by no means are they formal rules that every server should follow. Remember, we all have our own style that we merge with our restaurant’s rules. These are purely personal tips that I use in my every day job, and a few that should just be known.

#1. Always come to work in clean, pressed clothes and pants that aren’t falling off your ass. Nobody wants to be served by someone whose clothes are visibly dirty, or someone who’s sagging like a thug. Dress professionally, with creases. If your restaurant allows flair, add a bit of your own personality to your uniform. If your restaurant has any kind of recognition pins (good service, station validations, teamwork, certified trainer etc.) then you should wear them with pride. You earned them, and by wearing them your guests can see that you know your shit, and will want you to serve them.

2. Always introduce yourself to your guests in a way that will make them feel comfortable. If you’ve never served before, it might take you a while to figure out how to talk to certain guests. After a while, you become skilled at “reading people”. When you greet your guests, make sure you give them your name at some point, either in the beginning, or at the end. If you feel comfortable, use the “Corner Bar” theory. Shake your guests hands and find out their names, especially with the brats. If they don’t want to shake your hand, adjust your style for that particular table. Always make them feel welcome and never just go to a table and say “I’m taking care of you” or “What do you want to drink?” Greetings like that are rude, and start off the guests meal in a negative way.

3. Learn the names of your regulars, and what they drink. When you start getting guests that come in and ask for you by name, or in the case of a cocktailing area of a restaurant, where they look for you to find out where your section is, strive to learn and remember their name and what they like to drink. Nothing makes people feel more welcome at a restaurant that they frequent as having their favorite drink either come to the table, or their server asking them, “Hey, John, hey Jane, ya’ll having your usual today?” They love it when they come in, and the server they came to see comes up to them and greets them by name. Guests like personal attention, and remembering their name will endear you to them.

4. No matter how good you think you are, you’re going to forget something if you don’t WRITE DOWN THE FUCKING ORDER. Nothing gets to me more than a server who thinks they can remember a tables order with all their modifiers, especially if there are more than just 2 people. I don’t care how smart you think you are, write down the order, and for fucks sake, read the order back to the guest. Better to make sure it’s written down correctly than get to the computer and put it in wrong or have to go back to ask them how they wanted their steak cooked or what kind of dressing they want on their salad. It’s also the professional thing to do.

5. Do not ignore your guests. When you’re serving a table, make sure you don’t abandon them. Be available if they need refills, be available if they have a problem. If you’re not there because you’re spending your time in the back on the phone, or talking to your friends, that’s money that won’t be going into your pocket. A very wise manager once told me, “Your tables aren’t in the break room, and unless you’re selling drugs or sex, you won’t be making money back there.” Stay visible, because you never know when a guest is going to need you. Guests hate having to look around for their server. Going to the bathroom if you have to is fine, as is running to the kitchen to run food, but don’t stay gone.

6. Talk to your guests. If you ask people how they’re doing, be prepared if they want to tell you. Don’t just ask them because you think you have to, ask them because you genuinely want to know. You need this information so you know how to adjust your service. If they’re in a bad mood, you have to figure out how to cheer them up. If they’re in a good mood, you need to keep them there. If they seem like they’ll talk to you, then talk to them. If they don’t want to make talkie talkie with you, then don’t worry about it. You’re there to serve them, which means keeping them happy with whatever it takes (to a reasonable extent). If they’re regulars, ask them how their family is, or how their ailing mother is. If they’re coming in happy, their kids wearing their sports uniforms coming in with a trophy, then ask them if they just left a game. If you can deal with kids without wanting to throttle them, then get in good with them. Kids can make or break the meal with some parents.

#7. Don’t throttle the kids. No matter how much you might want to, knocking the kids to the ground will result in termination, flogging by parents, and an almost certain lawsuit. Make nice with them, keep yourself out of trouble.

#8.  My final tip:  Honesty is (almost) always the best policy.  Guests can tell if you’re lying.  I don’t know how, but they can.  It doesn’t matter if you can lie before a grand jury and win your case, you can’t lie to a guest who is waiting for their food.  If the kitchen is running long, make sure you inform your guests of this when they first sit down.  If you’ve fucked something up while ringing it in, then make sure you tell them that you fucked it up.  Don’t blame the kitchen for something that’s your fault.  Only screw the kitchen if they screw you first.  If they fucked it up, tell the guest.  Lying only gets you in deeper shit when the manager goes by and debunks that lie.  If you go smoke, let your guest know that you’re stepping out for a moment (if everyone’s caught up is the ONLY time you should go smoke, and then only for 3 minutes AT MOST).  If you let them know that you’ll be stepping out for 3-5 minutes, they’re going to be a lot more sympathetic if they run out of a drink than if you just vanish with no explanation.  If you have to hand off your card to another server and let them handle your tables so you can go on a legally mandated however unwanted it is break, don’t just vanish, introduce your relief to the guests.  Don’t say you’ve been in the office, tell them you have no choice.  Lying to your guests is a bad thing to do overall.

As an addon to the honesty issue:  The guest asking you how you are is not your cue to tell them your life story.  Keep it simple, and if they want to pry, then let them pry and give out what you feel comfortable with.  Don’t just blurt out everything, more often than not it’s going to hurt your money and add to a letter to the owner/corporate office.

Remember, these are just a few tips from my personal arsenal.  You might not be able to get them all down, and nobody’s asking you to.  They’re just tips to make you some cash.  I’ll post more of these to come, there’s still a few tricks up my sleeve.

Ribeye

The third Rule of Ribeye, Never ever ever pull out the line “The Customer is always right”.  When you bring out this phrase, we know instantly that you’re trying to get something free, is a rule that people break somewhere every day of the year.  If it’s not in a restaurant, or more specifically, MY restaurant, it’s in Wal-Mart or Kroger.  Whoever came up with this line is a moron, and knows nothing about true business.

Most people bring this out when they think they’re in the right about a price difference.  Others bring it out when they feel they are discriminated against, no matter if there was any discrimination or not.  Still others just use it because they’ve heard it before and thought it sounded right.

All of the above piss us off, because that line is just not true!

Take the example of the “wronged woman” who goes out to eat.  She’s with her family, and they come in on a Saturday night, maybe an hour before we close.  She orders an appetizer for her family.  They then order their food.  Steaks well done, which take a bit.  While they are waiting on their food, the kitchen gives last call for food.  Table is informed.  A few minutes later, the food comes out.  As they eat, I start doing my closing duties, cleaning and the like.  I check on the table a couple of times, I get refills, and eventually I go to print their check.

I bring the check to the table, telling them I’d take care of the bill whenever they’re ready.  Before I walk off, I hear, “We’d like some dessert, can you bring us the menu?” I told these people the kitchen was closing 15 minutes before it closed, and I told them when it closed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but our kitchen closed 20 minutes ago.  Is there anything else I can do for you before you take care of your bill?”

“You can get our dessert order.”  Ok, we have a stubborn one here.

“No, ma’am, unlike other restaurants, our kitchen prepares all of our desserts and it has been closed for 20 minutes now.”

“But we want some dessert, we want this insert signature dessert here.”

I was starting to lose patience. “I’m very very sorry that I cannot help you ma’am, but I did tell you both before and when the kitchen was closing.  We reopen tomorrow morning at 11 if you’d like to come back.”  There’s not much more at this point you can do to diffuse a situation like this.

“But the customer is always right, you don’t have a choice but to let us have dessert!”

“Let me just get you a manager ma’am, as there’s nothing more I can do for you.” I went to hunt for a manager, who wasn’t happy to be summoned from his nightly reports to deal with a whiny guest.   Now normally, once I get the manager I’ll stand off to the side somewhere so as to not seem rude to the guest.  This time, however, I was ready to cash them out and turn in my money so I could finish closing my area.  So I stood right by the manager.

“Hello, everyone, I’m Mr. Manager, I’m the manager here, what seems to be the problem here?”  He started, trying as hard as he could to be cheerful.

“We want to get dessert, and Ribeye here won’t let us have anything.”  She says with a smirk, that shit-eating grin that says ‘You’ve had it boy’.   I hate that grin…

“Well, ma’am, the kitchen is closed, and has been for 20 minutes now.  There’s not much we can do except for offer you a free dessert on your next visit.”

That only made the woman more mad than she was.  Her husband covers his face in shame, and the kids are just ready to go.  “What about tonight?  We want to have some dessert now!  We don’t want it next time we want it tonight!”

“Once again, ma’am, there’s nothing we can do about that.  You just had bad timing tonight, and came in too late.”

“But the customer is always right, you guys have to honor that.”

“No, ma’am, we don’t.  We aren’t going to just reopen the kitchen based on the request of just one table.  It just doesn’t work like that.”  My manager was starting to lose his patience too.

“Excuse me?  What do you mean you don’t?”  She was livid.  “The customer is always right, and you people need to learn that.”

“Ma’am, I can see that we’re not going to get anywhere with this, so you can either take the free dessert card I’m offering or you can not.  As long as you pay your bill, there’s nothing else that we can do.”  He then walks off, leaving her staring daggers and her husband trying his hardest to become invisible.

The woman ended up taking the dessert card, saying that she would give it to a friend as she would never come back to an establishment that treats their customers the way we did.  Thankfully, the husband paid the bill and left me a 20% tip.  The wife fumed the whole way out about how we were such a horrible place and so rude to our customers and didn’t get whatever she needed.  I was as polite and happy as possible when I said, “Thank you so much everyone, and you guys have a great night!  Please come back and see me soon!”

No matter what you people seem to think, the customer is not always right.  We’re not going to reopen a kitchen for your dessert, and no you’re not always going to be right about the price.  When you’re not, that doesn’t mean we’re going to jump to comp something just because you remember the price from 2 years ago.

Ribeye

Continuing with our expansion of the Ribeye Commandments, today’s post is on rule #2. Do not yell, whistle, or clear your throat at me as soon as you sit down, especially if I am with another table. I cannot stress enough the importance of this rule. Not only does the sound of your shrill, brain curdling whistle not only discourages me from even venturing within a food of your table, it makes the other guests envision flaying your body as you writhe in agony then dancing around your body upon a flaming dais whilst they dance around your burning corpse in a ritual to Xipetotec. Gotta love the eloquence in my writing these days….

The problems that I and other servers have with your whistling and/or yelling at us is that we are not your fucking children. We are there to make sure you have an enjoyable experience, not to act as your personal body servants. If I’m at another table, taking their order or ensuring that they are having a good time and I hear you whistle or yell at me, I’m going to ignore you. The more you whistle, the more I ignore.

One example of this:

Two, maybe two and a half months ago, one Saturday night, I was one of 4 servers in our area, and we were slammed.  I had tables in my section and was also cocktailing games.  While I’m at one of my tables, a table with 2 adults and 3 kids, very nice family, I hear a whistle from the table next to them.  I glance up, and see that this ghetto assed weave infested blubberized female is glaring at me like I’ve done something wrong.  I don’t say anything to her and go back to what I was doing.  I hear the whistle a couple more times, and ignore it each time.  I finally get the family’s order and start to go to take it to the computer, when I hear the whistle along with the infamous, “Waitah why you ain been ovah heah yet?”  Because this table came before yours did.  Trying to not lose my temper, I kept going toward the computer.  As I rang in the order, there was a conspicuous absence of the whistling.  Wondering why, I turned to my right to look, and Vanetianitra (they’re getting more creative you see) was headed toward me.

I braced for impact….

“I been tryin ta get yo attenten fo fi’ minnus now, we hongry and you ignorin me.”

“I’m sorry if it came off that way, ma’am, but I was with a table that got here before you did, and in the interest of fairness I hurried to input their order into the computer so that their food comes out as quickly as possible.  It’s the same thing I would have done had you sat down before they did.”  I can be a great talker when I need to be.  However, the skills I learned from Thank you for Smoking were just of no use to me that day apparently, because Vanetianitra did not back down.

“Is you comin ta take ouah ohdah uh naht?”  Now you might be wondering how that translates.  “Is you coming to take our order or not?” was my translation.  I still haven’t figured out why the letter “r” is so difficult for 60% of black people to pronounce in most words.  Proper speech is imperative to making your point successfully.  I’ve learned how to complain.  One of these days I might even be a public speaker.

“I’ll be at your table in just a moment, ma’am.”  I replied as sweetly as I possibly could without being condescending.

I see she’s not going anywhere until I decide to move, so I start walking to her table.

“….about fuckin time..” I hear her mumble under her breath.  I chose to ignore this breach of manners in favor of keeping her somewhat quiet and not losing my temper, which I was perilously close to doing.  Approaching the table, I see two extremely fat children, one girl with those little beaded rubber bands in her weave and yes, it was quite clear that it was weave.  The little boy was wearing a jersey, and a bunch of fake jewelry looking like it came straight out of a claw machine.

“How are you all tonight?”  I began as I usually do.  “I’m very sorry you all had to wait on me, I know it’s stressful when you’re hungry and can’t get what you need.”  They didn’t catch the implied sarcasm.

“Brang us all a wadda an a bow uh lemon, an brang some exkra sugahs, dare ain enough heah.”  So, it’s gonna be ghetto-ade is it?

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”  I don’t even get turned around before…

“We ready ta ohdah.”  Alrighty then.  “Day gon have two ohdas of wangs wit some exkra ranch.  You gon need ta brang a bow of ranch fo dem both.”

“Two orders of Buffalo Wings with extra ranch, what about for yourself ma’am?”  I know I don’t work fine dining, but with a table that’s already pissed me off, I’m going to step up the game a bit and make them feel stupid, and damn the two dollar tip.

“Brang me some chicken fangahs.”

“Yes ma’am, an order of Chicken Tenders it is.  Is there anything else I can bring you?”

“Ya’ll ain got no buffalo chicken fangahs do ya?”  No, ma’am, it’s not on the menu.

“It’s not listed in our menu, however, if you’d like we can shake your tenders in our Buffalo Sauce for an added 75 cent charge.”

“Dayum!” she nearly yelled, “Why ya’ll chahgin so damn much fa some hot sauce?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but our buffalo sauce by the case is triple the price of any of the normal sauces that come with our chicken tenders.  Would you like to have them shaken Buffalo style or would you like the normal order?”

“Just brang dem regulah.”

I finished taking the order, and walked off.  About halfway through the meal, I hear the whistling again.  I wasn’t at a table, but I had an armful of dirty dishes.  I didn’t immediately stop at her table because I wanted to drop the dishes off, although I have stopped at tables before with dirty dishes.  When I finally do get back to her table, Vanetianitra looks at me like I’m just the most horrible person she’s ever seen.  “How da Hell is you jus gon walk pass us witout stoppin ta see if we need anythin?”

“Ma’am, I had dishes in my hand that needed to get to the bus tub, and I do apologize but I don’t respond to whistles.”

“What you mean?”

“Ma’am, this is a restaurant, and I’m a server.  I don’t respond when people whistle at me, it’s disrespectful and when it happens, I and others generally ignore it.  In your case, I merely wanted to drop off the dishes before coming by as to not seem rude.”  Wrong thing to say.  She asked for a manager, and made sure to tell them that I was incredibly rude and ignored her when she was trying to get my attention all through the meal.  When the manager asked me about it, I made sure to tell him the same thing I told her, only I was less censored with him.  “I’m not a fucking dog, and I will not be treated like one.  You know that, and I won’t apologize to her for it.”  I got no tip, but I also didn’t get any disciplinary citation for my actions either.  I work hard for my money, but I’ll not be treated like fucking Lassie.

I did get some satisfaction from Vanetianitra and her whale sized children.  The table that I was with when they first came in witnessed the entire thing, left me close to a hundred percent tip because of what I went through.  Their kids were off playing games in our gaming area, and ran into the whale kids.  Whale boy, JaMarcus (it’s so much harder to find weird ghetto boy names than girl ones) knocked one of the other children out of the way when trying to play ski ball, and that child kicked him in the shin.  Regrettably, fat boy knocked my champion to the ground thanks to his increased girth.  Their fight was broken up before long, and fat boy and his mother were booted for starting the fight.  If not for a couple of witnesses, myself included, champion boy would have been kicked out as well, but it was known by those around that fat boy provoked the fight by knocking the other kid out of the way in the first place.

The table that left me the extra money?  They were a black family visiting from Georgia.

Ribeye

As promised, I’m going to expand upon my personal rules from yesterdays post.  Some of these may be short, some long, I won’t know until I start writing and it comes out.  So no disclaimers about long posts, you just have to read to find out.

The first rule we’re going to expand on is as follows :  There is to be no touching of the Ribeye in any way shape form or fashion that is not initiated by the Ribeye himself.   There is nothing worse than touchy feely guests.  This happens more than you might think, and it doesn’t just happen to me.

It happened tonight, possibly the only one of the rules that has been broken in the past week or so.  I was working in the bowling area as is normal for the middle of the week, and it wasn’t all that busy.  I was at a lane, conversing with the party of 16 that was inhabiting said lane at the time, when I feel a tapping on my arm.  At first I just put it off, wondering if I might just be feeling things.  Then it happened again.  This time, I swatted at it, thinking it a fruit fly or something.  The third time I felt the tapping, I turned around to see this redneck man I served a couple of weeks ago.

“Give me a minute, please, I’m with a guest.”   I snapped at him, and turned back around hoping he’d walk away.   No, not tonight, the gods are unkind.  I feel the tapping again.

“Sir, I’ll be with you when I’m done here, please give me a minute.”

“I nade may a bear”  That accent….that horrendous accent…I’ve got a southern accent, but this one was just….ass.  “How much lawnger are you gon be?”

“I’ve just said I’d be there in a minute, now please, stop tapping me.  I’m with a guest right now.”  I turn back to my guests, who are now laughing at my misfortune and his accent, and ask if they need anything else.  They are okay, and they wish me luck with the redneck I’m now having to deal with.   I see him swandering toward a pool table, so I follow.  As I walk up, he says, “It’s about dayum time, wheres muh beer?”

“You didn’t tell me what kind of beer you wanted, sir, and I was with another guest when you walked up.”

“Well brang me a busch.”  I hate it when people order that shit, it’s like people who order white zin when there’s a fabulous cabernet sauvingon sitting on the rack.  It’s times like this that make me happy that we don’t carry cheap beer like Busch and Milwaukees Best.

“We don’t carry Busch sir, would you like a Bud or a Coors Light?”

“Why don’t yall got any Busch?”  How the Hell am I supposed to know?  “I’m not sure sir, it was a corporate decision.”

“Go ahead and brang me a Bud then.”

“Right away, sir.”  I start to walk off, and next thing I know he’s grabbing my arm and trying to turn me around. “Sir if you don’t let my arm go right now I’m going to snap your wrist.”  Yes, I overreacted.  Yes, I should have held my tongue.  Yes, I could have easily been fired for threatening a guest.  Do I care?  No.  He broke the rules.  He touched me.  Don’t touch me.

I brought his beer, and after he paid, I made him go to the bar for his service the rest of the time he was there. I don’t deal well with rednecks as it is, much less ones that touch me.

I also seem to get a lot of kids running up and tapping me on my legs, or pushing me.  “My momma wants to know where da food is.”  “My daddy wanna know where his drank is.”  Things like that.  Never do I want to punt children across the place more than when their parents send them to find out where something is.

Long story short, if I don’t know you, just don’t touch me.  Don’t tap me, don’t grab me.  You can shake my hand when I introduce myself if you choose to give me your name as well, and if I know you well then there might be a hug.  I don’t allow strange people to touch me, makes me feel violated.

Ribeye