I’m just plain done working them. Someone always ends up calling out “sick” and fucking the rest of us who diligently show up for our jobs despite our lack of sleep, the kitchen inevitably crashes due to everything coming in at once, and the managers are generally useless. Tonight was no different. Talk about a Happy Labor Day Weekend…I dread tomorrow (the actual Labor Day).

I’ll go ahead and take some responsibility for tonight: I went into work on next to no sleep under the impression that we wouldn’t be at all busy based on our lousy Labor Day Weekend last year. I can’t take all the responsibility for it, however, as there were many aspects to the Hell this night.

First, when I get to work (on time for once), I learn that one of my other 4 cocktails has called in “sick”, and we will only be 4 in the game room. I’m okay with that at first, except for the person scheduled to close didn’t want to close and the person who wanted to close took forever to find the closer to switch sections. Things were a bit confusing the first hour due to bad communication, which could also be due to my apathetic attitude when they asked me what to do. I just didn’t want to be in the building and didn’t care who knew it.

The first few tables I had were pretty awesome; good money and great conversation, people as insane as I was in my fatigue induced dementia, I had a blast. The first three tables of the night were the only ones I had fun with for a while. The kitchen was crashed when I went in, and no matter how I tried to tell these “guests” that their food was going to take up to 30 minutes or beyond, they were still hateful when it came out late. I was perfectly honest with everyone as they were sitting down, so I’m not sure I really deserved their sour attitudes (though they sure as hell deserved the sour attitude I returned).

At around 7:30 or so, I made a really fucked up judgement call, and sent the girl in the section beside mine (the other 4 of the 8 tables on our side) on her break. At the time, it seemed like a good idea; she’d been working since noon without a break and wanted to get something to eat. I felt a little bad because I’d already taken one but I was under the impression that she’d had hers already. At any rate, she got her food ordered and came back to the game room. I was expecting to be introduced to her tables, then be able to close them out one at a time, thereby getting them bussed and re-seated at my own pace. Ms. A’s guests, it seemed, had another plan in mind.

The last thing Ms. A said to me as she went out the door on her break was “I’ve only got those guys, everyone else is paid out, here’s my card.” As her tables appeared to be empty, I thought it was still a good idea, because I could finish up with my two new ones and start bussing hers so that people could sit down. I get the drinks for my newbies and am about to head to her tables to start cleaning, when I see the busser in her section. The busser is cleaning all 4 of them, and there are guests waiting to sit down at each of them. I just rolled my eyes and got ready for the worst.

Part of my preparation included letting the manager of my area know that I was most likely going to need help because Ms. A was on break. He started to get pissed at her about it until I let him know it was my own stupid decision to let her go. Let him yell at me, not someone who just wanted to get a bite to eat. I made a quick run through with a towel and menus, letting each table know that I’d be with them as soon as I could as I was now running the entire side. Had these been my own tables, I probably wouldn’t have been worried but when I’m giving someone else a break I have a certain style, a style that was now blown out of the water. I return to the manager and ask him if he’ll greet a couple of the tables for me and get their drink orders. I’ve now got another new one of my own, a party of 6 (two adults and four of their groin spawn) that I haven’t even been able to say hi to yet. I know when I need help, I know when I’m in the weeds, and I’m not afraid to admit it. You’re only as good as the team that helps you out when you’re fucked.

The manager decided against greeting said tables. I don’t think he had a call on his radio to take care of, as he just wandered for a bit, leaving me to sink or doggie paddle as needed. Thankfully, all of the guests except for one of my tables were very patient and could clearly see that I was slammed. They can see me going to all my tables, and to one of the games that I had tabs running at, and back to them, so it didn’t end up being too bad until I had to fix a mistaken order (meal was supposed to be steak and shrimp and I’d only heard sirloin). It was no issue for me to get the shrimp for the gentleman, and we gave it to him free for his inconvenience, yet he still stiffed me. Fucker.

During this whole time, I’m randomly forgetting what I’m doing, survival owed solely to the fact that I write everything down when I’m that busy. The fatigue didn’t help either, yet somehow I made it until Ms A returned. I wasn’t all that thrilled with the manager in question (this manager shall remain undisclosed owing to my co-workers that read this and not wanting drama to follow). It seems that with every new set of management we get, they get less and less “team oriented” when it comes to doing the job of a server, and that’s going to be a whole post in itself. I just don’t get it, there’s a couple of managers at my job that don’t mind greeting tables and getting orders, or even serving tables when we’re slammed. It’s part of their jobs! This one, however, has been heard to say such things as “I don’t care” in regards to guest issues, and proved to me that he just doesn’t care when his staff is in the weeds and needs his help. He did go to the kitchen to relay instructions for me a couple of times but I think it’s because he sensed that I was about to lose my temper with him.

Disclaimer: The remainder of this post is VERY racially charged. I don’t use the “N” word, but I make clear where I stand on the race issue in ways some of you may not agree with. It doesn’t matter if you agree or not, though, as I’m only human and I can only take so much. Click the little button following this warning if you want to read the rest.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: african, african-american, bitch, bitches, black, charged, cocaine, crack, cumshot, curdled, dark, darkness, drug abuse, fat, food, fuck, fucker, gang, gang bang, ghetto, gratuity, gun, Hell, judgement, Labor Day, money, negro, racism, raging, redneck, regulars, respect, ribeye, serving, shit, stupid, tip, tit, trash, weekend, whore, whores, worthless

I’m plain and simply put exhausted. We closed an hour later than we normally do on Monday nights, but none of the servers knew we were going to. We were short staffed all around. 4 total dining room servers, 2 cocktail servers in the bowling alley, and 3 of us in the game room. I ran a 6 table section all night long. I got my ass kicked, once again. The worst part? My dept leader was back from his time off today. He was there for an admin meeting in the morning, and spent the evening doing scheduling. Not helping out his department, seeing that we were getting our asses royally handed to us on a fucking platinum platter, oh no, that would mean actual work. This mother fucker sat on his ass in the office working on a fucking schedule. I was pissed. I’m still pissed. I want his job so fucking bad, and he wastes it. I’m so tired of picking up the slack for his fuck-up’s.

We also started out with 2 bartenders at the beginning of the night. Why the 2nd one had the nerve to leave at 8 pm, I’ll never know, but that meant that drinks were coming out very slowly. I ended up jumping behind the bar and helping out along with running my 6 tables. That was a blast, let me tell ya. I didn’t mind too much, I enjoy it when I go behind the bar, knowing that I deserved to get that job in the first place and didn’t. I’m sure I’ll get it next time.

Nothing major to say about the shift except that I got my ass kicked, and stomped straight into the ground with a stiletto heel. I’m in pain all over, and I have to go back tomorrow. I’ve also lost one of my 2 days off this week that I was looking forward to, that being Thursday…payday. I was really looking forward to having that off, stopping in for a half minute to pick up a paycheck and leave again. Oh no, I have to go in and open, and the gods only know when I’ll be getting out of there.

My dept. this week has been in a shambles, which is a big part of my frustration. I take that back, it’s not just been this week, it’s just been the worst this week. The “one in charge” actually left someone who no longer works for the company on the schedule, and said that everything was covered. How the fuck would he know that, he’s been off on his honeymoon with “Flip-Flop” the dept. boss of the dining room servers, his “roommate”. They took their vacations the exact same time. The day before Christmas Eve until today. They came back in town just in time for the admin meeting they have every Monday, but did they stay and help out their areas? Nope. The managers are royally pissed at the cocktail leader due to his short staffing and his excuses about it. Last New Year’s Eve that I worked, we only had 12 cocktail servers on the schedule, and we still had more on the clock on these holidays than we had this year, and this year we had 17 cocktails on the schedule. What’s wrong with this picture? I know that job can’t be all fun and games, but come on, learn how to write a fucking schedule, or people are going to start rebelling on you. I don’t know how true it is, but I’ve heard that a couple of people are putting in notices. More money for me, I say.

To the nice old woman that I cussed out, I really do apologize.  I was pissed off not at you, but at everyone.  You sitting down and nagging me about cleaning your table, despite the good tip you eventually left, pissed me off anymore.

Here’s how it went:

Ribeye: “Hey guys, I’ll be with you in a few minutes.  We’re extremely short staffed, and I’m running behind.”

Old Woman:  “Is there a server for this table?” No, bitch, I didn’t just tell you I was going to be with you in a few minutes.

Ribeye: “Yes ma’am, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”  I had my hands full of dishes, and was trying to get away.  I’d started to walk away when…

Old Woman: “Are you going to clean this table? We’ve been waiting a while.”

Ribeye now loses his temper: “I just told you I’d be with you as soon as I can, now fucking wait a minute and I’ll be with you as soon as I can!  How fucking hard is that to understand?!”

Old Woman: “How dare you talk to me that way!”

Ribeye: “Because you didn’t fucking listen to me the first time I answered you!  I told you once I’d be with you when I fucking could and you fucking had to keep it going instead of saying ok!  Just wait for a damn minute, Jesus Fucking Christ, how hard is that to do?”

They didn’t stay, which didn’t bother me at all.  I felt bad about it later, but when she sat down, I was running 7 tables, and couldn’t get to them.  I just hope they don’t call corporate on me.  Even if they do, they didn’t talk to anyone when it happened, so it won’t matter much…

I guess now that it’s happened, all the pissiness from work has built up and blown up at a poor defenseless old woman who could have probably beat the hell out of me with her gigantic shoplifter purse, it won’t happen again for a while.  I felt a lot better after getting it out though…

Oh yea…

HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR!

Ribeye

Tags: alcohol, bitch, bitchery, bitching, dirty, fuck, fucking, hateful, Hell, holiday, new years eve, ribeye, server, serving, table, waiter, waiting, yell, yelling

A recent post on the BitterWaitress.net forums inspired me to make this post, and I’m sure it’s going to make me pretty unpopular for a while.

Wrong again. I got a comment on the Women can be so dramatic sometimes post saying that I was a “racist pig”. I get e-mails on a daily basis saying that I’m “evil racist slime” and “I wouldn’t spit on your cracker ass if I were on fire”. I don’t know how many ways to say this, but I AM NOT A RACIST! Yes, I dislike certain portions of different racial groups, and you all know that I’ve lumped those groups into one group, the Entitlement Junkies.

Yes, this might be a bit callous, but after serving these different people for so long, I’ve learned the hard way that Entitlement Junkies just don’t tip, and they treat servers like shit. If you think that makes me a racist, then you can stop reading this blog right now. Sorry to offend you, but that’s just how I feel.

If some of you haven’t noticed, I’ve never once used a racial slur on this page, and I never will. I don’t agree with using it, and if you think the words “ghetto trash” are a racial slur, then you also can stop reading this blog right now. I’ve said it time and time again, I don’t have a problem with all black people. I have a problem with the dregs of the black race, the ones that come in with either their pants hanging down their asses, weave four feet on top of their heads, ebonics so thick that I can barely translate it, etc. I have a problem with black tables that are so demanding that I spend more time with them than any other table in my section, therefore losing tips on other tables for a table that I’m not going to get tipped on anyway. I get tired of doing nothing wrong, giving exceptional service, and getting no tip. I’m tired of people assuming that I fucked up their order on purpose, when it was the fault of the kitchen, pulling the fucking race card, and leaving me no tip. I get tired of ghetto hoochie mommas that let their vast numbers of crotch spawn run around like dogs doing whatever the hell they want with no discipline whatsoever, and then yelling at me because I ask them to keep their kids under control. I get tired of being disrespected because I go to a table happy and in a good mood, and serve them just like I serve anyfuckingbody else.

What I don’t get tired of, are my black guests that are my regulars. The ones that are respectful, that talk to me and laugh with me. I don’t get tired of hearing how they hate the ghetto trash that I talk about. I don’t get tired of hearing how embarrassed they are with how their brethren act out in public. They don’t like to be lumped together into a group with the trash, and I don’t lump them together with the trash.

Black servers hate serving black tables. Black servers think they have a right to give substandard service to black tables, whether they are trash or not. They know the drill, only they don’t care if it’s a table that’s trash or a table that’s not. They get away with treating their black tables like this, yet if a white server treats a ghetto table (not a table of non-trash black people) perfectly, with no change in attitude, they are stiffed and usually end up with a ticket full of comps and complaints to the manager.

I have a ton of black friends. I get along great with the kitchen, that is primarily black men. They know I’m gay, and they know my feelings on ghetto tables. They know that me, along with other white servers don’t hate all black people. They know that we only hate those that come in with a chip on their shoulder against us and those that come in expecting to get something for free. We have lots of black servers that work where I do. One of my best friends, who just moved to Kentucky, is a black girl that could regularly be heard in the break room yelling “I HATE black people!” and on one particularly bad night after serving a group of extremely ghetto guys and girls that took the time to puke in a bowl and leave it on her table and spit in her menu, “God as my witness, I’ll never wait on another mother fucking nigga!” while holding a spot sweeping broom into the air, then throwing it across the room.

I have news for anyone who thinks that I’m racist. I love waiting tables, it doesn’t matter who it is. I don’t like being called “white boy” at the table, and I don’t like that some black tables insist on trying out 4 different alcoholic drinks before settling on a water with lemon.

Once again, I’ll also tell you about my first regulars. A black couple who comes in with their well behaved kids. They were the first couple I waited on when I got onto the floor, and they come in every week to see me. The wife sits at the table with me and listens to the gossip of the place, and loves hearing my stories about the ghetto trash I have to wait on. They tip great every time they come in, because I treat them just like anyone else I wait on. I don’t give them special treatment, save for getting them a free dessert for the kids sometimes, and that’s on my dime because I enjoy them coming in to see me. I couldn’t give a shit if they tipped or not to be honest with you, I enjoy it when they come in. I enjoy talking to them, because they are my friends. They have been coming to see me a little over a year now, and they have no plans to stop coming to see me. When one of their kids had appendecitus, the mother came in to let me know that they’d be back next week. I told them I’d buy them dinner, seeing as they were about to have a ton of medical bills for surgery. They came in the next week, and asked me for their check before I let them know that I’d already paid for their bill OUT OF MY OWN POCKET! They are good friends of mine, and they know that I’m not a racist, so I would appreciate it if you’d all stop judging me based on my feelings for the fucking ghetto trash I have to wait on. I know not all black people are like that trash, and I don’t prejudge anymore. I wait until after I meet the table before I decide the way it’s going to go, and even then I still give exceptional service until I am disrespected.

Just had to get that rant off of my chest.

Ribeye

Tags: black, disrespect, entitlement, ghetto, happy, judgement, nice, profiling, racism, racist, regulars, respect, serving, tables, tipping