07 April 2009

I have to do it

I know I am not supposed to talk trash no mo', but you know what? Waiting tables is hard sometimes. And sometimes servers need to have a little fun, feel a little solidarity, and know that everything is going to be OK. So, though I shall not give the specifics of these customers, like full name and address or eye color and blood type, I will give a few broad examples of how last week went at the old restaurant.

First and foremost, I was sexually harassed by an old lady. Every time I approached her table, she patted my bum. As I opened a bottle of wine...pat pat pat. As I got their orders... pat pat pat. I had to position myself very awkwardly to avoid her advances, and even then I could feel her grandmotherly love reaching for my hindquarters from across the table. Her son left me a very large tip. Which made it feel even more wrong.

On Saturday night I wore a dress to work that I felt skeptical about. It had a big, floppy ruffle around the neckline and was generally not my style. I was in a rush when I left for work and I wanted to believe that it would be ok, but it was not. One of my tables asked me if I was Amish. Actually what they said was "My friend wants to know if you're amish!" (woman pointing to man next to her, man blushing and slapping her pointing finger out of his face.) Holly promised that I looked a little to slutty to really pass for Amish, but still I will never wear that dress again.

Another group that came in on Saturday night spent the evening socializing with their iphones. When they left, I realized that one of the fine gentlemen had left his little buddy behind! I ran out the door, seeing that they were all the way on the other side of the park. I yelled "Sir! You forgot your phone!" I was trotting towards him with the phone raised up in the air. He turned, looked, and waited for me to bring the phone to him. On the other side of the park. I was in my fucking apron! And this guy wants me to deliver his fucking iphone to him! GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! One of my friends asked me why I didn't get his attention and then leave the phone for him on a park bench or something. That's a good question. I also wonder why I didn't a. keep it, b. throw it at his face, or c. throw it in the street.

That's it! Otherwise all of my customers have had insanely nice hair, been polite and positive, and been amazed at how dining out is both affordable and fun!


the feeb said...

wow. you should really start 'accidentally' spilling wine on people more often.

ViVi said...

Poor sweet delicious ranch, such a stigma. When someone asks for ranch where I schlep food I have to ask the kitchen for a side of nascar sauce or they refuse to acknowledge that they know what I'm talking about.

And I wouldn't feel too bad about dishing on customers unless its just a sad sack situation where they confuse their waitstaff with their friends (those people deserve a break in life) instead of asshattery. Reading server blogs where the dirt is spilled helped me become a better customer before I started waiting tables and helped me become a better server once I tied on the apron. Sometimes you gotta call it as it is.