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 have had another exhausting day today…another double shift.  I went in at 12 today, originally scheduled off at 10 pm.  When I got to work, the managers were asking if I have a phone.  An odd question seeing as how they have my phone number listed in my file.  I change numbers a bit often for my liking, but I always make sure to update, can’t take the chance on missing out on money.  Apparently they were trying to call me and tell me they didn’t need me till 4.  I couldn’t afford to leave, so I convinced someone else to go home and come back later.

After staying up late Saturday night, despite my trying to sleep, I went in exhausted.  It was dead during the first couple of hours and that didn’t help my exhaustion.  I didn’t even have time to get any Red Bull before I went to work.

I went through the normal motions I go through, waking up naturally and getting annoying guests that tipped 10% or less.  We started getting busy later in the day, about 2:30.  That’s when I started making money.  Other than my feet getting blistered though, nothing bad really happened….

Until the night shift….

Every month, on the last Sunday of the month, we have a group that comes in.  I don’t know what the significance of the end of the month is, but it never fails.  The entire young Kurdish community of Nashville comes to my job.  They’ve been doing it since I started my job over a year and a half ago.  Ever since I started, there’s been a group of this community that I have to deal with.  It never fails.

This portion of their little “family” gives me some type of problem every time they come in.  In the beginning, when we still allowed smoking, we didn’t allow cloves or cigars.  It was a corporate thing that I never really understood, but it was a rule.  Some of the guys happen to smoke cloves, and got very pissed off at me when I used to put them out.  They bitched about every little thing, from having to pay an upcharge to go from a cheap side to an expensive one, to having to pay by the hour when they bowled.

It doesn’t matter if I happen to be in the bowling/billiards area or in the game room, they always end up with me.

Tonight (Sunday) happened to be that night again, and I didn’t even realize it until I heard the quacking of their voices.  I looked to see where the strange noise was coming from and my good night suddenly got bad.  I prayed they weren’t going to sit in my section.  There are about 24 of them that gravitate toward my section when they’re there and sure enough tonight was no different.  Half of them didn’t order, the other half ordered one thing at a time.  Not as a group, where it would have been easier.

They spread out across my section, taking up 5 of my 8 tables.  Only the people at 2 of the tables chose to order anything tonight, the other three were just hanging out.  Being that they were a party of more than 8 people, I had to put a gratuity on the checks.  *note* We got a memo at work recently saying that we no longer have a choice at whether we put a gratuity on a check or not.  If it’s 8 people, they get a grat no matter what.

They didn’t like the gratuity.  The first couple of checks I delivered had 5 of the 9 orders on them.  I dropped the checks and walked to the kitchen to pick up some of their food.  When I got back, Bartender B pulled me aside.  “They are pissed off that you put a gratuity on their checks, they say you have to have 8 people for a grat and there’s only 4 at the table.”  Well yeah, of course there are only 4 people at their table, they aren’t piled in to the point of bursting anymore.  At any rate, another part of the memo was that we have no choice but to remove a grat if the guest asks.

I hunt down Manager B the Wise and have him exempt the grat.  I then try to explain to them that I had no choice in the grat, that despite them sitting at different tables, they were still one big party.  They didn’t care.

They left me exact change.  I got no compensation on the 110 dollar check and I did everything right.

I hate Kurds.  Not all of them, just some of them.  The ones I have on a monthly basis have a harsh smell and a superiority complex.  I don’t like being around them, but nobody else will pick them up.  They see how I get treated, and I get stuck.

I think next month I’m going to exercise my legal right to refuse service to them.  I’m not even going to care if they call me a racist because of it.  I’m tired of being shit on by these fuckers.  Let them go to a restaurant that caters to their nationality.  I’m tired of them changing every single thing they order to something completely different than what’s in the menu.  I’m tired of the attitudes.

Right now, I’m just plain tired!!!!!!  I’m going to take care of that problem in a few minutes though.  The toilet calls, and the RagingPartner needs cuddlings, and I just plain need sleep.

I’ll post something tomorrow so until then…make sure to check out the Horror Stories page, and submit your own from there.  I can only update as long as you all send them to me.  I put up a new one earlier, bringing the grand total to 4.

Enjoy,

Ribeye

Tags: asshole, bad tips, bitchery, cigar, clan, clove, community, family, foreign, fuckers, gratuity, group, Hell, Kurd, Kurdish, language, odor, party, quacking, smell, smoker, smoking, stink, tip, tipping

It’s back, after the holiday hiatus. Round Table vol. 3 will be hosted this coming Monday, January 7th, by the great and wonderful….

If you want to get in a submission, go to his page and leave him a comment, or you can always send it to me and I’ll send it to him, just visit the Contact link at the top of my page. Otherwise, you’ll probably get one of your posts picked for you. I believe, unless something has changed and I’ll correct if it has, that the theme for this week will be Holiday Horror Stories.

Get your posts ready everyone, Round Table has returned!

On another note, I’ve gotten more RagingServer pens in, and RagingPartner and I are working on a new fun idea for them. Here’s what the new ones look like:

And because she was so cute a minute ago, another of the Raging Kitty, Skitzo:

Tags: bitch, bitchery, bitching, blog carnival, carnival, cash, cat, food, fun, fun time, future, hovaround, kitty, money, pet, raging, raging kitty, Round Table, roundtable, skitzo, tip

Another of my “Things to do and not to do” series tonight, mainly because I’m tired and as such my brain just isn’t working correctly right now.  Here are some of the things you can do to make your servers happy when you go out to eat.

If you say you’re ready to order, be ready to order!  We want to get your food in as quick as possible so we can get to our other tables.  Getting behind doesn’t make us happy, it puts us in the weeds.

Keep your kids under control.  When kids are polite and well mannered, we are glad to serve your family.

Be polite when you’re asking questions.  Nothing pisses us off more than a guest that comes at us asking things like “Why da fuck my food ain’ heah yet?” and “You do know what you is doin right?” If you want us to check on your food, then ask us nicely.  “I’m sorry, but would you mind checking to see how much longer our meal is going to be?”  I don’t mind helping out at all when I’m asked nicely.

Be polite when you’re ordering your drink.  “Can I get a top shelf margarita, please?” goes a lot further than, “Brang me dat Patron’ mahgarita main.”

If your food is running a long time, don’t get pissed off.  More often than not, it’s the kitchen running long, not your server.  Huffing and puffing and making demands of bread and free salads when the restaurant is clearly busy as Hell is just going to piss us off.  We’ll gladly bring you a salad on the house most of the time, as long as you’re nice about asking us.  Most of us will even offer it to you.

Don’t be snotty to us.  We’re there to make sure you have an enjoyable experience while dining out, and when you’re happy, we’re happy.  Telling us how much better you could do our jobs pisses us off.

We don’t make the prices.  If you don’t like them, please don’t take it out on us.  I don’t much enjoy high prices myself, but I don’t bitch about them, and you shouldn’t either.   Taking it out on us just pisses us off, and makes us less inclined to be nice to you or your crotch spawn.

If we’re out of something and tell you about it, but someone near you gets what you wanted, that just means we only had enough of that product to fill the orders that were already in the kitchen when you came in.  That doesn’t mean we just don’t want to serve you what you want.  We are told that we’ve run out of something by our managers, please yell at them and not us.

Compliments are nice, and we all like them.  Compliments, however, do not pay our bills.  Therefore, if you plan on giving us compliments, please do so along with a tip.  If we’ve deserved your praise then we obviously did something right and deserve a bit of cash as well.

When it comes time for the tip, please actually look at your bill and tip a percentage, or at least more than 10%.  For those of you older diners who think that tipping 2 bucks on every single check is still the standard, please remember that it’s no longer 1970.  The cost of living has gone up and as such, so has the standard of tipping.  I’m all about serving older people, I enjoy hearing stories, I enjoy flattering the older ladies and older diners are a lot of times more inclined to talk to us.  The problem remains that older people (older men mainly) tend to tip a flat rate of 2-5 bucks a check, regardless of if the check is 20 bucks or a hundred.

If you’re going to talk to our manager on the way out and are complaining, please at least give us a heads up so we can figure out what went wrong.  If it’s something you didn’t like about our service, at least we know.  If you just didn’t like the food or prices or something that we have no control over, please don’t go bitching about how horrible your service was and make demands for our corporate/owner’s phone number.  We want to see you flayed when you do that.

Ok, so this post wasn’t exactly the normal “Ribeye quality” you’ve all come to love/hate, but I’m tired tonight, and I have a long day tomorrow.  I just wanted to at least give you something.  More to come.

Ribeye

Tags: bill, bitch, bitching, check, complain, complaint, corporate, elderly, gentlemen, hate, love, men, money, old, old people, pet peeve, quality, ribeye, server, service, tip, tipping, woman, women

I’ve been thinking about some of these things for a while, and tonight just seemed like the night to post the list. Here are some things that you should just not say to your server when you’re out eating, either because it’s going to piss them off or because it’s just plain rude and makes you seem like a worthless piece of excrement.

“You missed a spot.”  If we’re cleaning, just let us clean.  There will be no need for noise from the peanut gallery.

“Fuck you!” You know what, Fuck you too!  If you don’t have respect for us, we’re damn sure not going to have it for you.

“How much longer on the food?”  We keep you as up to the minute as possible when your food is running long, so don’t keep asking if you don’t want to piss us off.

“How much does _______ cost?”  If you have to ask, then you need to cook it yourself.  Most prices are in the menu if it’s food, with alcohol there’s just too many prices to memorize.  If it’s not a bottle/draft beer or a well drink, then we probably don’t know right off the bat.  We’re not going to price check every fucking drink until you find the cheapest with the most liquor.  Just order and worry about it later.

“It’s slow in here tonight.”  No shit, Sherlock.  I was wondering why you were the only table getting on my nerves!

“My food tasted bad, can I get it free?”  No, you ate the entire thing, you’re now going to pay the entire thing.

“This drink doesn’t have any liquor in it.”  Yes, it does, you’ve just had so much you can’t taste it anymore.

“What’s free?”  Nothing.  Absofuckinglutely nothing.

“Can I get insert non-menu item here?”  If it’s not in the menu, then it’s probably not something the restaurant has.  Asking for it isn’t going to change that.

“Do you give anything free for birthdays?”  No, No, No, NO, NO, NO NO NO, NO NO NO!  Go to T.G.I. Fridays if you want a song!

“Do you work here?”  No, I’m just wearing an apron and asking you what you want to drink.

If standing in front of the bathroom, this one…”Where’s the bathroom?”

“Can we get some straws?”  No, I’m just going to give you these drinks without them.  They’re not sticking out of my apron, or sitting on the tray, so you can’t have them.

“Can we get some silverware?”  No, I want to watch you eat with your fingers and make my stomach turn backflips.

“So what’s your real job, or are you in school?”  This is my only job, and I make more doing it than most people do in stuffy, boring places.

I’ve got a lot more things you shouldn’t say to your servers, but I figure the list is long enough for now.  But before I go, the number one thing to say that pisses us off, because it’s not funny and we hear it so many times a night:  In regards to the check, “I thought you were taking care of that.”  What the Hell would give you the idea that we would even consider paying for your meal?

Come back for more, very soon.

Ribeye

Tags: apron, bathroom, bitching, check, dessert, drink, entitlement, free, funny, ghetto, Hell, liquor, missed, peanut gallery, people, raging, stupid, things to say, tip, tipping, toilet, work