You all know how close I am to being over it at my job, well tonight, I almost walked out the door.

First three tables of the night were nice people.  Two were families, one was a guy and his girlfriend on a date.   I had a great time with all three of them.  I got two of the tables to get dessert, the one with the kids got chocolate cake and cheesecake, both with ice cream, running up a grand total of 67.14 on their bill.  The other one got cheesecake too.

The 2nd table, the one with the singled out cheesecake, the couple on their date, had a slight issue with dessert.  The girl had an allergy to almonds.  The girl didn’t bother asking me about any nuts in her dessert, nor did she tell me about her almond allergy, else I’d have told her to just avoid all the desserts completely as they all have a potential allergy warning on them.   While she didn’t actually start swelling up, she started feeling sick to her stomach, and I was worried that I’d killed someone.

Grand Total?  48.52.  They gave me 51.52 and told me to keep the change.  3 bucks on table number 2.

Finally, we have the two sisters and their daughters who were out for a night of shopping and fun.  I flirted with the sisters, a middle aged pair of beautiful black women, and gave the daughters free games.  I got the sisters a couple of drinks after flattering them about their ages.  Their total?  47.82.  They gave me 52.00 and told me to keep the change.  4.18 total.  10 bucks in 2 hours, from 5pm till 7pm.

I made about 15 more bucks in the next hour and a half, and then the ghetto trash black women and He-Ra, their ghetto trash black Tranny decide they’re going to come in and fit their ugly asses into a 4 top booth (there were six of them).

When I walked up to the table, there were only 3 of them.  One looked to be about 50 or so, one looked to be about 22, and one looked like an amazon, my height (6′4), skinny, plenty of weave of a deep orange/red color, and a skin tight gold/brown outfit on.  Ugly as sin the amazon was, and you’d think that one was the tranny.

“Good evening ladies, is this everyone in your party or have you got more coming?”  I ask, trying to be in a good mood despite the bad tips I’ve gotten so far.

“Der gon’ be six uh us,” Amazon Andranettie answers.  Her real name I’d find out later was Chanel.

“Have you already stopped in our dining room, this table is going to be a tight fit for six people.”

“We gon’ sit heah, why?  You don’ wanna wait on us?”  Old Orthapedia asks.

“I’m just trying to make sure you are all comfortable, ma’am.  Would you like…”

“Jus’ come back when da ress of ouah grou get heah.” Chanel tells me.  I go on to the next table to prebuss it and go back to the service station to wait.  A few minutes later, the rest of their group shows up.  I go back to the table.

“Now that you’re all here, my name’s Ribeye, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.  Are you all going to be on one check tonight?”

“We ain’ know yet, we nee a frew minute.”  The girl speaking is sitting right next to Chanel, and she’s got a slightly deeper voice than most women.  She looked to be about 22 years old.  She was a bit shorter than the amazon, and had in some blonde weave laced with red.  Ugly ugly gold glittered spike heels on, which immediately made me think Hooker, where’s the pimp at.

I give them a few minutes before I go back to the table.  When I finally get back, I don’t even have a chance to speak before they start ordering drinks.  “I’m gon’ have ______ Margarita.”  Amazon tells me.  “Can I see your ID please?”  The ID question is repeated 3 times, as people just don’t want to get it out and ready, or they don’t think I’m going to card them.  The girl sitting next to Chanel tells me she doesn’t want anything, as does the last girl at the table, a quiet girl I’m going to call Fran.

When I get back with the drinks, the girl by Chanel tells me she wants the same drink Chanel got.  “I’m going to need to see your ID please.”  I tell her.  She pulls it out, and it’s a TN ID card with the name Chanel on it.  Chanel had already given me a drivers license, and I didn’t remember the last name on it.  The picture looked more like the Amazon Chanel than the short girl.  “This is a little weird, ladies, this ID has the same name as the one you gave me,” I say, pointing at Amazon Chanel.

“Da descripton diffrent.”  she says, and being that I’m in a hurry, I don’t think much about it.

I get Chanel #2’s drink, and go back to the server station.  Mr. N comes up, and informs me that he’s served my party before, and that Chanel #2 is a cross-dresser.  I remember him telling me about this person a few weeks ago when He/She/It was in there, and I started thinking about something.  I got Manager S the Feminine over, and told her about what happened.  We talked about the ID situation for a minute, and it was decided that I was going to go and check the ID of both Chanel’s at the same time.

Flash forward to me going back to the table.  “Ladies” I begin, looking at Amazon Chanel and Chanel #2, “Something’s been bugging me since I saw your Id’s, and just to clear it up, I’m going to need to see them both again so I can look at them side by side.  Something just doesn’t add up, because they both had more or less the same picture on it, and the same first name.”

“You done seent em once already.”  Chanel #2 says, looking pissed off.  “We ain’ gettin dem out again.”

“I’m sorry to be rude, ma’am, but if you don’t let me see your ID again, I’m going to have the manager come and take all the drinks from the table.”

“Why you gotta see dem fo?”  Tatarethia asks, heretofore a silent figure.

“In all honesty, I believe that one of them has passed off an ID to the other, and that’s illegal.”

“Well day ain’ gotta brang dem out fa you, day aready got day dranks so day cain’ get in no troubah.”

“Yes, they can, if they don’t show me the ID.”

“You need ta brang out ouah checks den, and cancel ouah food.”

Grabbing Chanel #2’s and Amazon Chanel’s drinks, I reply, “Right away ma’am.”

“What da hell is you doin?” Tatarethia asks again, reaching out to grab my hand.

“I told you, if I don’t see the ID, they don’t get to drink.  If you don’t let go of my hand, you’ll not finish your drink either!”

“Brang ya’ll managah ovah heah, you gon’ pay fa dis!”  Tatarethia tells me, her fist shaking as she let my hand go.

I get Manager S the Feminine to the table, and they proceed to tell her that Chanel #2 doesn’t have her ID on her, and that I let them all drink.  She was told by the bitches that I didn’t card any of them, in an attempt to get me fired.  Too bad the manager knows that I value my job too much to let someone slide.  I missed the ID pass off, which was on me. However, I did catch it before more than a couple of sips were taken, and they didn’t get any of the drinks free.  As they were getting up, I heard one of them calling me a “Snaggletooth Cracka”, which gave me the idea to take the rest of the drinks from them.  They bitched because I didn’t bring back every penny of their change, literally 4 pennies total on 3 checks.   That made me wonder if perhaps Springs is a black woman in Nashville…..

I then noticed that Chanel #2 had an Adam’s Apple, and a quite noticeable bulge in her skirt….Mr. N was right, she WAS a he.

I’ll damn sure recognize this ugly black tranny next time it comes in, and that mother fucking fake titty wearing cocksucking flaming dress wearing coke snorting crack smoking methhead weave wearing cunting whore better watch the fuck out because my foot is going right into it’s nuts.  It was quite obvious that this tranny is NOT a post op yet, and I’ll cause some pain.  Fucking piece of shit trying to get me fired!  Had it been a manager that hasn’t seen me work forever and didn’t know how rigid I am about ID’s, I probably would have been fired on the spot, especially since it’s a corporate place.  Justice prevailed though.

They were also informed that if any one of them were caught drinking on the premises again, they would be reported to the police for using false identification to obtain alcohol, and summarily arrested.  Fuck them and they boats they sailed in on, I hope all six of them get beaten by their pimp and are buried alive.  I hate it when I’m threatened like that.

Fucking whores.

Back tomorrow,

Ribeye

Tags: african, african-american, bitch, black, cross-dresser, cross-dressing, cunt, drag queen, entitlement junkie, hair weave, hermaphrodite, hooker, pimp, prostitute, she-male, slut, snatch, tranny, Transsexual, Transvestite, trash, weave, whore

Only this time, it’s nothing about tipping so much as us all being racist, and daring us to spit in her food. You can see my comments if you actually visit the page for the video posted below. Basically, it says that most black people with the exception of the ghetto are embarrassed by people like her, and that because of her showing her ass (publicly and figuratively) no server in their right mind is going to willingly serve her, and most management is going to back up the server in fear of losing close to 200 dollars because she’ll play the race card. I know the talk that’s gone around in Nashville restaurants, people know her face, servers and managers alike. I know of managers who would ask her to leave just on the basis of that video and the fear that she would besmirch their restaurant over nothing. I still don’t believe the server actually followed her out over the tip, that rarely happens anymore, and the server is usually fired on the spot when it does.

Tags: bitch, black, entitlement, entitlement junkie, ghetto, liar, scam, scammer, stupid, tipping, trash, video, youtube

Why is it that you see fit to repeat the same things over and over again in every single comment?  You talk in numerous comments about going in order, about doing things one step at a time instead of multi-tasking, about your constant overcharging, about how people are uncaring.  I’ve even noticed in one post where I asked the prebussing question, you said that 99.9% of people would say I was wrong, yet so far, you’re the only one posting here that says I’m wrong.  That statistic you threw out was just blown out the window.

When you make a point, you need only make it once.  Not 400 times, not to each separate commenter, once.

You don’t need to post every single overcharge you’ve ever gotten, all one has to do is google your name to find that out, if they really want to know about it.

You don’t have to repeat yourself when it comes to your ideas on doing things one thing at a time, and your idea of fairness, we all got the hint the first hundred times, so stop.

Ribeye

Tags: annoy, bashing, bitch, entitlement junkie, moan, springs1, whine