Everyone knows how much I hate ghetto trash, no matter the color.  Tonight was the full assortment!

I didn’t make the amount of money I should have made for almost 800 bucks of sales.  Just about 13% for the night.  Don’t get me wrong, I did make some good tips, but they just couldn’t make up for the bad ones tonight.

First we have the price checking bitches.  Starkesha and Weavetta.  “How much do dis be?”  “What do dat coss?”

Then we have the little ghetto family with the Ghetriarch..I just made that word up…Ghetriarch.  Anyway, this bitch obviously doesn’t care that her 14 year old child can’t read nary a word and can’t speak properly.  Oh, the joy of teenagers.  “What do dis come wit?” asks the 14 year old girl about the chicken fingers, stated clearly in the menu to come with fries.  Pointing at the picture of the wings and fries platter, “What do dat come wit?  Do it come wit fries?”  Maybe she was just a moron.  Then we have Momma Maybellina, “Brang me a ta-qualla mahgarita, don’t make it wit dat rum.”  “Ma’am, margaritas are made with tequila, that’s what makes them margaritas.  If they were made with rum instead of tequila, that would make them fruity mixed drinks, when they’re frozen we call them daquiris.”

“You stupid, mahgaritas be made wit rum, I wan mine wit some ta-qualla.”

“Right away ma’am.”

Then we have the fat women who couldn’t fit into the booth because the table next to theirs had pushed the seat back a bit.  “Why ya’ll boof be dis litta?  Is it jus me?  Is I too fat to fit in heah?”  I guess she thought she was being funny.

I could be funny too.  “Do you want the honest answer?”  I asked.  I still don’t know if she got what I was implying or not.

We had the kids who thought they’d be slick and get drinks.  “I loss my id lass week, but da managah say I can drank anyway.”  “Then the managah can be the one who serves you that drank, I’m not getting fired for it.”

Finally, we have the bitch and her faux gold tooth boyfriend.  They had the nerve to eat twice.  First time:

“I only gots eleven dollah.  How much dis philly gon’ be aftah tax?”

“Well, it’s about 9 bucks before tax, I’m going to assume it’ll be about 10 something.”

“Why you ain’ know fa sho?”

“Because my brain isn’t a calculator for percentages, only adding and subtracting, I’m very sorry.”

Total check comes out to be 10.04.   I drop it off and wander.  When I come back, bitch hands me two 5 dollar bills and a quarter and tells me in the sweetest voice possible : “Keep the change, sweety.”  Fuck you, you dirty bungfucking, cooze sucking, drippy snatched, weave wearing, ugly reddy rock smelling whore!

“Thank you just EVER so much.”  I snapped back at her.

They came back at last call, and I was pissed behind it because nobody else would serve them.  “You’re not seriously ordering at last call are you?”

“Yeah, we still be hongry.”

“Seriously?”

“Why, you ain’ wanna serve us?  You ain’ got no choice!  Brang us dis chicken philly heah with some jalapenos.”

“I’ll have it out as soon as I can, but it is last call so it may be a few minutes.”

“Is you gon’ cut it in half fo’ us?”

“No ma’am, but I’ll make sure to bring you a knife and an extra plate.”

Another 10.04 check, another 2 fives and a quarter.  Fuckin scrotum sucking, anus smelling ugly drippy snatched gonasyphaherpified cheap whore!

I’m thinking of changing my hours so that I don’t have to deal with the trash anymore.

Oh yes, I didn’t get the bar this time either, because “Your department just can’t lose someone as strong as you right now.  The store needs you to stay where you are.  The business is too important to put you somewhere else and have you start over.”  The whole time they were telling me these reasons, I kept saying to myself, “Bullshit bullshit bullshit.”  I merely heard, “You’re just not wanted behind the bar.  You’re just not wanted behind the bar.  Stop applying.  Stop applying.”  Well, they didn’t come out and say that, but I’m not going to apply next time unless I’m GUARANTEED a bartending spot.  A year and 5 months where I’m at and I’m not even getting to teach class anymore because people are prudes.

I teach an excellent class.

Ribeye

I’m sorry, but just because you’ve gotten out of high school it doesn’t make you a grown up.

This past shift, I had more teenagers than I’ve ever had to wait on in one night.   7 that tried to order alcohol, 3 fake id’s, 1 that tried to pull the “I forgot it at home, boss” routine,  and the other three just didn’t think I would actually check their ids.  I got some kind of threat from them all as I escorted them out to the parking lot.

What is it that makes kids these days think they’re grown up?

I’m also learning more and more that parents today are just worthless.  They let their kids run all over them.  I had a 7 year old tell his mom to “shut the hell up” when she told him to finish his dinner.  She didn’t say another word, except to apologize to me, “He’s had it rough”.  I told her that was a lame excuse, and told him to apologize to her or I’d take away his game card.  He told me to shut up.  I took away his game card.  His mother privately thanked me later.

A 10 year old running through our game room, little fat kid.  I have SOME sympathy for little fat kids, because I was a little fat kid, but I wasn’t that fat.  I know he needed the exercise, but did he have to try to get it at my job?  I told him to stop running. “Fuck off, asshole, you can’t tell me what to do!”  So I grabbed him by the arm, and made him take me to his parents.  “They over at the movies.  They let me come in here and play while they was gone.”  Well then, little brat, let’s let security hold on to you.  I had the security guards drag his parents out of their movie.  I was cussed out.  “Sorry guys, but we’re not your personal babysitters.  Take your kid to the movie with you or something but if I catch him in here without you, I’ll kick him out and mall security will kick you all out.”   Cussed out again.  I just love my job.

Taking a sabbatical to the toilet, I am enjoying the combination of waste release with the nice taste of a marlboro light.  I’m reading blogs on my phone.   Suddenly the lights start to flip on and off.  I hear giggling.  I hear more giggling.  A child.  Then I hear a deeper voice laughing, saying “Good job, son, that’s how the lights work.”  I yell from my stall, “then teach him how to work the lights at home, not at a restaurant.”  Cussed out from behind a bathroom stall door.

On the plus side, I did serve some awesome people.  I made some great money tonight.  I’m choosing to not mention my bad tables, because I figure my blog is dark enough without my mentioning trash EVERY post.  So I’ll talk about the trash next time.  I still have the final Rules for Eating Out post coming as well, so stay tuned.

Thank you to all the readers here, this site has reached 3200 visits since this past Monday, the 24th.  Keep reading everyone, and I’ll keep writing

Ribeye

I’ve decided to skip part 4 of the “Rules for Eating Out” series, at least for today, in favor of a topic that needs some clarification:  Checking ID’s.

I know it isn’t fun, but if you want to have that alcoholic beverage, I’m going to need to see your ID.  Now, for some things you need to know.

If you were carded at the door, we still have to see your ID if we serve you a drink.  The legal drinking age is 21 years old.  Not 18, 19 or 20.  Some places allow 18 year olds entry, without stamping their hands or anything.  That means we have to be very careful, as we can be busted.  We can lose our liquor license (ABC card).  We can be fined for serving you.  We can be FIRED for serving you.  So don’t try to pull one over on us.

Rule #1: If I ask for your ID, don’t complain about it, I have to ask everyone, especially here in TN.  The new law states that anyone drinking, from ages 21-101 has to have a proper identification.  That means, even if you are old and gray, and we know you are old enough, we still have to see your id just to make sure you have it on you.  It sucks.  I won’t deny it sucks.  I don’t get the law.  I understand if people are young, but not if they’re old.  Just show it, don’t complain about it.

Rule #2:  If I ask you for your ID, and you don’t provide it, then I WILL NOT serve you any kind of alcohol.  I don’t care if you’re legal, I don’t care if you’re old and gray, I’m not losing my job because you want that long island tea.  I’m not paying a $500 or more fine because you forgot your ID at home.

Rule #3:  Just because someone else in the restaurant fucked up and served you a drink without an ID, or served you while you were underage doesn’t mean I’m going to.  I’m not stupid, even if my co-workers are.

Rule #4: If you are underage, and you order a drink and provide ID thinking that I won’t notice the date says you’re not 21 until next week, I will have you a. escorted out of the building.  b. banned from the premises, c. arrested.  Yes, you can be arrested for attempting to order a drink while underage.

Rule #5:  If I ask you to remove your ID from your wallet,  that means, remove your ID from your wallet or I will not serve you that alcoholic beverage.  I’ve had a girl print out a picture of an ID, photoshop her picture onto it, and stick it to a blockbuster card.  Let me be clear.  You won’t be served if you refuse to take your ID out of your wallet.

Rule #6:  DO NOT TRY TO USE A FAKE ID WITH ME.  I’ve had one when I was underage, I know they’re fun to use, and fun to get away with.  They are also very illegal, and we do know how to spot them these days.  Times have changed.  We have the authority to confiscate your fake ID, and we will use said authority.  It’s a game at some restaurants to see how many fake ID’s we can get in a month.  I’ve got 8 from this month alone, and it’s early.  We will also call the police on you, and you will be taken to jail for your parents to take care of.  Just don’t do it.

Rule #7:  Please don’t give me an ID that is cracked, taped, broken into a million pieces, laminated cheaply, or expired.  We cannot accept any of those, so don’t try.

Now that we’ve gone over the rules for using an ID, let me tell you what ID’s restaurant servers and bartenders are allowed legally to accept.

1. State Issued ID card.  That is the card you get from the DMV when you cannot get a drivers license.

2. State Issued Drivers License.  This is the card you get from the DMV when you are legal to drive.

3. Government issued Passport.  Nuff said

4. Military ID.  This does not include family military ID’s, and we do know the difference.  Active and reserve military ID’s we can accept, but family ID’s we cannot.

Now for some that we cannot accept.

1. Driving Certificates.  These are the faux driver’s licenses of some states.  Tennessee is one of them.  It’s for the immigrants that do not have social security numbers.  They are the pinkish purple id’s.  They state very clearly that we cannot accept them as a form of identification.

2. Your social security card is NOT a valid form of ID.

3.  Don’t bring the ID that you bought from some company.  It might say that it can be used as a legal ID card, but it’s not one that we can accept for your alcohol.  

4. Don’t bring your birth certificate combined with your college ID card.  Pointless, and you’ll be laughed at.  

The moral of the story is, if you’re going to come out to drink, have the proper id, and for fuck’s sake, be of legal age.  We are not going to risk our jobs, even for our friends who might happen to NOT be 21 yet, just so you can have a drink.  We’re not going to pay a fine for you, and lose our ABC card so that we cannot serve at a place other than Cracker Barrel or Waffle House.  Get over thinking you’re going to get one over on us, because we’re not going to let it happen.  Our jobs are too important to us.

Thanks for reading,  and expect the last installment of the “Rules for Eating Out” series soon, Rules for Eating Out: The Older Generation.

Sincerely,

The Ribeye of your Dreams